A Kind Of Magic
by Impala77
Summary: Sam and Dean work a case with Max Banes. Policemen are starting to turn on each other after an accidental shooting of an innocent bystander. The boys think ghost possession and start the hunt. But finding the culprit turns out trickier than it sounded. Max can't take his eyes off Dean and eventually encourages the brothers to act on their mutual attraction. (Max isn't in list yet)
1. Chapter 1

**Notes:**

 **This story is using an AU of "Twigs and Twines and Tasha Banes". Max did not bring his sister back. It's several weeks later and the Winchesters have checked on Max from time to time, even met him for a hunt or two.**

 *****SPN*****

"No, James, put the gun down! Please! We're partners! Don't do this, man! I'm begging you, James! Please, you don't have to do thi..."

A shot resounded, and the begging man fell to the ground, dead eyes staring ahead, sporting a circular hole right between them. It was silent for a few moments. Then the metallic clank of a gun hitting the ground broke the silence, followed by a thud as the cop who dropped it fell to his knees, sobbing.

"What have I done?" James wailed, fingers plucking at his hair. Then his hand grasped his weapon tightly and he lifted it, resting the barrel against his temple.

 *****spn*****

Dean dropped the newspaper down in front of Sam, effectively pulling his brother's attention from the one on the table before him.

"Chick gets caught up in a shooting, dies by a cop bullet. Three weeks later, one of the cops involved in the shooting, kills himself," Dean declared, walking around the table to stand opposite Sam. Sam raised his eyebrows, studying his big brother. Dean continued.

"Two days later, another cop involved first shoots his partner, then splatters his own brains all over the place. What does that sound like to you?"

"Ghost possession. Vengeful spirit," Sam supplies, reading the article with a frown. "So, there are three more cops that were working the hold up that are still breathing?"

Dean nodded. "There's just one problem."

"Casper has been cremated," Sam shook his head, tapping the part of the newspaper where he'd gotten the information with his finger. "So, what's this... um... Mandy Simmons tied to?"

"Hm," Dean huffed. "I'd say we'd have to check into it to find out."

"Right," Sam agreed, picking up the newspaper as he got his 6 foot 4 frame off the chair.

"So, where're we going? Colorado, wasn't it?" Dean sounded almost cheerful. He wasn't the best at staying in one place too long, so eventually the bunker always gave him cabin fever.

"Cascade, Colorado," Sam confirmed, shaking his head. "Wonder who ever came up with that name."

Before Dean could throw in his two cents, his phone blasted Rod Stewart's 'If you want my booody' on maximum volume. He jumped and fumbled for the device, accepting the call as quick as he could without checking the caller ID.

"Yeah?" He said, shooting daggers at Sam and mimicking cutting his throat as Sam clasped his hand across his mouth to stifle his laughter.

"Dean?"

"Yeah, it's Dean. Max, is that you?" Dean raised an eyebrow. Sam sobered and kept quiet, trying to listen in. Dean quickly activated the speaker.

"Yeah it's me. Why did you answer Sam's phone?" Max sounded perplexed.

"I didn't. You called my phone, dude," Dean replied. "Which raises the question of how you got 'my' number."

"No, I didn't. I don't even have it..."

"Hold on," Dean cut in, seeing his brother trying to keep a straight face. "Damnit Sammy, you're asking for it. Prank war's on. Don't go cry to Mom when I win."

"As if," Sam snorted.

"You two done?" Max laughed.

"What are you calling for anyways," Dean asked the male witch.

"Honestly? I was bored," Max admitted.

"Tell you what, we're just heading out on a case. Why don't you meet us in Cascade, Colorado and help us with a not quite simple salt and burn?"

"Sounds great," Max replied. "But I'm up in North Dakota. Will take me a bit longer to get there."

"No problem. We'll text you where we're staying at and start up research," Sam suggested.

"Yeah, we can share a room," Dean didn't miss a beat. "Two queens. One for you, one for me. Sammy can take the floor."

Sam shot Dean a glare but Dean laughed at his own joke and snatched the keys to the Impala.

"See you there, Max."

 *****spn*****

Dean flopped down on one of the beds in the cabin. Cascade was in a mountainous area and the only motel not fully booked out was actually less motel, more rent-a-cabin. Sam wasn't too happy at first because it was a bit pricier, but Dean had hinted he could hustle some money and that a change would be welcome. Especially with Max joining them.

Sam looked around in the spacious, two room cabin. The main room was living room and kitchen in one - not that they planned on using it. The other room contained four queen sized beds and a séparée with a bathroom. Settling on one of the other beds, Sam pulled out his laptop.

"Alright, we have Mandy Simmons, died age 28, who got caught in a crossfire between six cops and a handful of drug dealers as she exited a store unawares. She gets cremated and her ashes rest with her boyfriend, Walter Smythe, 32, because no living blood relative exists. Mandy was an only child, parents deceased, no aunts or uncles or grandparents alive or known of. I wonder what Walter did with the ashes...," Sam pondered.

"Made soap out of it," Dean mumbled from under his arm, which he had flung across his face to drown out the bright sun light streaming in from the window beside his bed.

"Dammit, Dean, I'm serious here," Sam scolded his brother.

"I know," Dean replied, biting his tongue to make sure he didn't add me too.

"So, three weeks later officer Lance O'Reilly shot himself in the temple, using his service gun. Three days later, Sheriff James Milner first kills his subordinate Freddy Ramsey and then himself. That was two days ago.

No suicide notes or other explanations in either case, all three were part of the shooting. The other three cops involved in the drug shoot were Sergeant Steve Bishop as well as officers Carl Lehman and Shayne Thorpe. I'd suggest we interview them to get more information, try figuring out what Mandy could be tied to."

Sam hacked around on his laptop quickly. "Nearest police headquarters is other side of town. Let's go."

"Ugh," sighed Dean and stretched. "And where can we find this ominous boyfriend Walter?"

"He's been listed to share the house with his girlfriend. No work known. So I'd say we find him there." Sam dug through his duffel bag and produced his fed suit, then tossed Dean's bag at him. "Get going, sleepy head. Put on your cool guy suit."

Dean dragged the bag off his torso where Sam had dropped it and muttered something unintelligible. Sam grinned as his brother sat up and started shedding layers of clothes to dress up for the occasion. He could watch his brother undressing all day long.

Finally the brothers pulled their ties on right, pocketed FBI badges, and headed to the Impala.

 *****spn*****

The Winchesters entered Cascade P.D. and walked up to the front desk, where a young officer was looking up from his work. Flashing their badges, they introduced themselves.

"Hey, Agents Doggett and Reyes, we'd like to speak to Sergeant Bishop," Dean said, dropping his fist on the counter. A side glance to Sam told him his brother wasn't happy. "Please." Dean added and flashed a fake grin at Sam.

"Um, Agents, the Sergeant is...," the young man started, but Dean interrupted him.

"Look, Officer, err...," Dean eyed the badge on the uniform. "Officer Doyle. This is about the drug shooting and the death of your colleagues, so I'm sure the good Sergeant can make time for us."

His stern expression seemed to shock the young man and he nodded quickly before picking up the phone, hastily typing in the number. Dean heard it ring once, twice, and then a loud bang reverberated through the building.

It took the Winchesters a split second to exchange looks, then both drew their guns and headed into the hallway where the shot had come from. Sam was ahead, Dean hot on his heels. As they rounded a corner, they both skidded to a halt and lowered their weapons.

"Damn," Dean muttered. In front of them the body of a middle aged policeman lay sprawled, a puddle of blood seeping from a hole in his temple. The deceased still had the gun in his hand. Behind him stood a shell-shocked policewoman, hand clasped over her mouth, eyes wide.

"I take it this is Sergeant Bishop?" Sam asked. The woman nodded her head yes and sobbed.

Reacting quickly, Dean took her hand and led her back to the hallway leading to the main room. Sam took advantage of the opportunity and pulled out the EMF reader to check the body. To his surprise, the device stayed silent. Sam frowned and scratched his head.

The gun and the whole room in fact gave the same result. Something didn't add up. Sam quickly checked the body again, checking for ectoplasm or any sign of vengeful spirit activity, but came back empty.

Running footsteps warned him he'd have company soon and swiftly he slipped the EMF back into his suit pocket. A few moments later a whole group of policemen swarmed the room.

"Did you try CPR?" A dirty blond, athletic looking officer asked Sam, kneeling down next to his colleague.

"He's gone," Sam pressed. "You put a bullet there, zero chance of survival. If I were you, I wouldn't touch the crime scene."

"Crime scene?" The man whose tag identified him as Shayne Thorpe queried, an eyebrow raised.

"He shot himself. Suicide is handled like a crime scene, isn't it?" Sam shrugged, keeping an eye on the man. He had recognized his name as one of those officers that had been involved in the accidental shooting of Mandy Simmons and who were now targeted by a vengeful spirit. Only... Sam wasn't so sure anymore it was a spirit they were dealing with.

Dean returned to his side, throwing him a questioning glance. Sam shrugged and then shook his head no, briefly. Dean's face betrayed surprise, but they didn't have time to keep up their silent conversation.

"No, Carl... don't! Drop it... drop the gun!"

Relocating their attention, the Winchesters took in a red haired older cop having his colleague, Mr. Thorpe, at gun point. Seeing their interview subjects dropping like flies, the boys sprang into action.

Dean sprinted the few steps to Carl Lehman, grabbing his gun arm just as the shot rang out. Sam had just reached Shayne Thorpe and tackled him out of the way, literally feeling the bullet zing by, followed but a burning sensation on his right bicep.

The next moment Dean received a backhand to his face with a strength he had never assumed to be in Lehman's capability. Stunned, he staggered back, shaking his head to clear his vision. When he focused again, it was to see Carl Lehman sticking his own gun into his mouth, pulling the trigger.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean shouted, looking at his brother whose right arm was covered in blood. "Sam?"

"I'm okay, Dean. Bullet just grazed me," Sam replied. "Sadly it wasn't enough and Mr. Thorpe here wasn't as lucky."

Dean lowered his gaze and lively, green eyes settled briefly on dead, brown ones. He sighed. The room was in a frenzy and for now, there was nothing they could do with all their leads being killed. A pack of EMT's accessed the room and the boys took advantage of it all and ran.

 *****spn*****

"So the EMF came up with nothing?" Dean sounded incredulous as he patched up Sam's arm, applying a Band-Aid.

"Not even a flicker," Sam confirmed.

"Dude, did you switch it on?" Dean raised an eyebrow at Sam, who countered with a smoldering glare.

Laughing, Dean raised both hands and stepped away from his patch-up job.

"There, all done. Good as new. So... no ghost, no spirit then?"

"No EMF, no ectoplasm, no nothing," Sam confirmed as Dean changed back into his beloved jeans and plaid flannel. He quickly followed suit and pulled up his laptop.

"What are you checking?" Dean mumbled as he absentmindedly rubbed his cheek where Carl Lehman had backhanded him.

"Trying to find out what we're dealing with," Sam mumbled while Dean unscrewed the cap of a beer bottle.

"Want one?" He asked, offering Sam a bottle. Sam declined and focused on the task at hand.

The low rumbling of an engine, which then got cut, filled the room. Dean stepped to the window and smiled.

"Max?" Sam asked.

"Yeah."

 *****spn*****

Dean and Max clinked bottles after Max had dropped his duffel on one of the vacant queens and Sam had filled him in. Sam eyed the two men wearily as they sipped their beers. He was tired but they had things to do. And those two laughing bags were just keeping him distracted.

"Yo, get out or be quiet," he growled good-naturedly. "I got work to do."

"Peace, grumpy," Dean retorted and quickly pulled Max' sleeve. He knew Sam needed some thinking time about the case. "Let's go, Max. If I remember correctly, I still have to finish the tour regarding my Baby."

Five minutes later, Sam glanced up to see his brother and Max stand by the trunk of the Impala, admiring the arsenal. A pop up window on his laptop meant, for him, the engine had found a match for the potential foe.

 *****spn*****

Dean strolled along the side of the Impala, letting his fingers softly trail along the frame as he neared the front of the car. He'd been so engrossed in showing off his most prized possession, he hadn't noticed the shift in Max' interest.

"Gotta love those curves," he called to Max who was walking a few steps behind him, eyes fixed in a dead lock on Dean's ass.

"I sure love the curves," Max agreed.

Something in Max' voice let Dean stop short and he turned around to face the younger man, whose eyes now rested on Dean's crotch, slowly wandering up his torso, lingering on the lips before Max finally locked eyes with the Winchester.

"What?" Max grinned. "I'm just appreciating your tempting physique."

Dean frowned and swallowed. "Ya know Max, I like you. But I don't play for your team."

"Oh boy," Max laughed before growing serious. "Are you done fooling yourself? Cause I've seen the way you check out Sam when he's not looking."

"I do n...," Dean started but got interrupted by Max' right index finger across his lips and his left hand hooked in Dean's belt.

"I've seen Sam doing the same to you. And I can totally see why."

With that Max removed his finger from Dean's lips and replaced it with his own in a sweet, short, teasing kiss.

The cabin door opened and out strolled Sam, nose buried in his laptop, fed suit back in place. He was headed towards the Impala.

"Hey Dean, I need the keys. There's something I need to check at the P.D., I don't suppose you wanna come with..."

About five steps from the car Sam finally looked up, seeing Dean and Max standing behind the Impala, facing each other, Dean looking shell shocked and frozen in time.

"Dean, you ok?"

Max chuckled and stepped back a bit, while Dean briefly shook his head and then propped his arms onto Baby's roof, looking at his brother.

"Yeah, fine. What do you need?"

Sam sucked in the air and rolled his eyes. "Come on Dean. Research in town. Either gimme the keys or come with."

"Oh," Dean replied. "Research at the bar?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Research at the police department, they're bound to have some paperwork on the case," Sam sighed.

"Ugh, too dusty," Dean pulled a face and leaned through the open window inside to push the keys in the ignition. Sam watched him for a moment, but didn't miss Max ogling what must be Dean's rear. For a split second Sam's eyes narrowed.

"She's all yours baby bro," Dean announced. "Just remember, one scratch and..."

Sam rewarded his brother with a patented bitch face and opened the passenger door to get in the black car, scooting over to sit behind the wheel.

"I know, Dean, you'll have my ass. See you two later."

With that, Sam let the tires squeal and raced off raising quite a bit of dust.

"Damn youngster," Dean growled, watching his beloved car disappear around a bend. "Just who is he trying to impress?"

"I know who I'd want to impress," Max chuckled and eyeballed Dean.

"Yeah, about that. Care to explain the sweet talk?"

 **AN: This is my first wincest case fic... wincest+1 to be exact. Please feed the muse with comments :)**


	2. Chapter 2

Sam was pushing the accelerator a bit harder than usual. What the hell was going on between his brother and Max, and why was it bothering him? Up to date he got along great with Max, witch or not. He actually quite enjoyed his company, and Alicia's.

Alicia was still a sore topic though and Sam as well as Dean had been glad Max hadn't held anything against them. In his grief it would have been too easy to blame the brothers for her death.

When Max had talked to them on the phone, Sam had been looking forward to seeing him. What changed? Was it the funny vibe he got when he stepped outside and saw Dean standing stiff and stark? Or Max obviously checking out Dean's ass?

Even so, Sam knew Dean could handle himself. As far as he knew, Dean had never really shown any interest in men, if one doesn't count his gay thing with Aaron Bass. Sam still didn't quite get what Dean had been referring to.

A rabbit crossed the street in front of Sam, causing him to swerve and tap the brakes for a moment, effectively pulling his focus back on the road. He'd have to have a talk with Dean about it at some point. Only Sam wasn't sure if Dean was interested in that talk. Without conscious thought, the image of Dean undressing in the cabin popped up in Sam's mind and he swore.

 *****spn*****

"Care to explain the sweet talk?"

Max studied Dean for a moment, nodding to himself.

"So you want me to explain the sweet talk, but not the kiss?" Max grinned.

"Um," Dean briefly looked at his feet. "That as well. I mean, I know I got a great ass, the chicks love it..."

"Not only the chicks, Dean. Please don't tell me you've never noticed Sam checking you out." Max's smile faded a bit.

"Sam doesn't check me out, dude. Not in that way. We're brothers. We grew up in confined spaces. We're used to seeing each other naked. Happens all the time. It would be awkward if we'd have to look away whole time. There's nothing to it." Dean's voice had gained in volume as he spoke. "And just FYI, Sam doesn't play for your team, either."

"That's not what I've heard," Max replied, stepping closer to Dean.

"He... what?" Dean frowned and his voice almost squeaked on the last word. "Now where would you have heard that?" He crossed his arms in front of his chest and nervously let his tongue snake across his bottom lip. Max had a hard time to refrain from growling.

"I've met a few hunters, Dean. One of them met Sam in the year he wasn't with you."

"He had no soul back then," Dean countered. "No feelings whatsoever. He would have done... um, a lot of things to get off."

Max nodded. "That hunter met him again when he got out of hunting while you were in purgatory. Sam did have his soul then, didn't he?"

"Sam, no... you must be mistaken. You know, Sam, he was with a chick that time. Amelia or something. He didn't fool around with no guy, then," Dean said, somehow feeling like he needed to convince himself as much as Max.

"You sure?" Max raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Who's that hunter you're talking about. Who told you all this... crap about my brother?"

"Doesn't matter," Max said. "He's dead."

"Oh, good for him, else I'd go and kill him dead," Dean replied, once again tongue snaking out to wet his lips.

"By the way, Dean, you not only have a great ass, you also have gorgeous, very kissable lips," Max smirked, closing the last two meters between them quickly to press his own lips against Dean's once more.

As before, Dean didn't back up right away. After a moment of lingering, Max started to kiss Dean for real, tongue tasting Dean's slightly salty lips. For a split second he felt Dean respond, then two firm hands placed themselves on Max's chest and pushed him away.

"What the fuck are you doing, Max?"

Max smiled quickly before looking at Dean in earnest. "I'm testing the waters, Dean. So far I'd say, you're not completely disaffected." Max nodded at Dean's crotch with a sly grin. "You're packing."

"It's just a bodily reaction to having my lips licked," Dean scrambled to explain, but made no move to cover up the growing bulge in his jeans.

"So it doesn't matter if the licking is done by a woman or a man?" Max asked suggestively.

"No,... YES...," Dean corrected himself, causing Max to slightly shake his head. "I don't know, alright? You're kinda putting me on a spot here."

"So you've never wondered how it would be to sleep with a man?" Max closed the gap again and boldly cupped Dean's crotch with a gentle firmness. Dean gasped softly.

"Maybe once... or twice," he replied, willing himself to keep up a poker face where really he was at a point where one way or another, he was willing to give this a try. Suddenly Sam popped up in his aroused and confused mind, only to be replaced by the extreme awareness of what Max was doing to him.

Max removed his hand to take Dean's into his to guide him back into their cabin. Still trying to stop his racing mind, Dean let him. If he thought about it, Max was kinda good looking, so if he'd ever want to give the whole gay thing a try, he surely could do much worse than Max.

 *****spn*****

Carefully, Sam was reading the file on the drug related shooting for the third time. There just had to be a clue in those pages. He sighed and sipped on the coffee a young, female officer had brought him. As if on cue, she popped her head inside the door.

"Do you need something else, Agent Reyes?"

"Um, no, I'm fine. Thank you," Sam replied, putting the mug back down. The officer nodded and turned to leave him alone once again. "On second thought, ma'am," Sam started and she stopped and turned back towards him.

"Yes?"

"You haven't been around by any chance, when your colleagues started taking their own lives?" Sam knew it was a long shot, but he had to try.

"Not with O'Reilly, no. But I was in the room when James sh... shot Freddy and then...," she looked down.

"Then himself," Sam finished.

"Yes. It was unreal."

"I'm sure it was," Sam nodded.

"No, you don't understand. They... James would never have killed Freddy. They were friends. Like, best friends. Even off duty they would spend a lot of time together, fishing, shooting hoops, that sort of thing. You know?" She looked at Sam, trying to gauge his reaction.

"So, in other words they would give their lives for each other, but not take each other's life?"

"Yes! When James drew his weapon, you should have seen his face. It was like he didn't know why he was doing what he was doing. It was... I don't know, like magic. Dark magic," she concluded.

"Magic?"

Sam sat up straight in his chair. All his senses now were on high alert. Magic. That would explain the lack of the EMF going off. They weren't looking for ectoplasm, they were looking for hex bags.

"Max," Sam murmured softly, causing the petite woman to frown at him. "Tell me, Officer... errr, Kline, were there any foreign objects found on your colleagues? Like, little pouches?"

Jackie Kline frowned, thinking. "No. There was nothing. If they had found anything like that, it would have been in those papers, Sir."

Sam nodded. "Thank you for your help, Officer Kline. And for the coffee." He emptied his cup and said his good byes as fast as he could. If there was indeed magic involved, Max would be able to tell for sure.

 *****spn*****

Dean found himself enjoying kissing Max. They had made it back to the bigger than normal bedroom where Max had pulled Dean close, sealing his lips over the older man's once more. This time Dean hadn't hesitated kissing back and it had actually been Max who had moaned first.

Instinct had taken over and Dean was in his element, sucking in fragrant air, exploring the other man's mouth, feeling himself get incredibly aroused. His erection was pressing hard against the confinement of his jeans and when Max pushed his hips forward, rutting against his hip, Dean could feel the impressive hardness of him through the layers.

A shiver ran down his spine at the unfamiliar sensation of another man pressing his aroused dick against him. Fingers fumbling soon found both men shirtless, breaking their kiss long enough to take in and admire the contours of the other one's muscled torso. Max stretched out his hand and softly ran it over the anti possession tattoo on Dean's left pectoral muscle, evoking another shiver from the man.

With a grin, Max placed a kiss on the tattoo and then slowly worked his way lower, dipping his hot tongue in Deans belly button. Dean gasped and his hands found their way to Max' head, rubbing through his short hair. Max straightened up again, his gaze finding Dean's as his hand found Dean's belt buckle and made short work of it. When he popped the button of the jeans, Dean bit his lower lip in anticipation.

"Wait," he whispered, hand covering Max's as he made to unzip him.

"Relax, Dean," Max whispered. "I promise it'll be good."

Dean chuckled hoarsely. "I don't doubt that. It's just..."

"Are you afraid you might like it?" Max asked, cocking his head to the side.

"Not really." Max couldn't believe Dean sounded almost shy. "Just, don't forget this is a first for me, alright?"

"I won't," Max promised. "I'm not usually a bottom, but I will let you top, Dean."

"Fffuck," Dean groaned as Max underlined his words with another firm squeeze to Dean's aching hard cock.

"Later, stud," Max chuckled. "For starters I think I'll blow you." Max placed a strong hand on Dean's pecs and pushed him down on one of the queens, then proceeded to unzip the jeans and carefully worked the coarse fabric down and over Dean's hips. Next he hooked his thumbs into the elastic of dean's boxers and pulled them down to his knees. Dean's freed erection popped up and slapped against his abs.

"Damn it, Max," Dean grunted.

"Patience," Max chuckled when Dean bucked up his hip to create contact. "I'm starting to think you were just playing hard to get earlier on. You sure you haven't done this before - with a guy, I mean?"

"Don't patronize me. I've done a lot of things in my life. Believe me, this is a first. But it's not like I get laid every night," Dean replied, lifting his head when Max wrapped his hand around his dick and squeezed. "Oh, fuck, yesss!"

Max grinned as he jerked Dean's cock a few times, drawing needy sounds from his throat and a good amount of precum from his dick.

"Eager much?" Max grinned, unbuttoning his own jeans to free his straining erection. Dean glanced down his body towards Max and grinned.

"I could say the same about you. You look kinda excited from what I can see," Dean winked, causing Max to tighten his grip around his cock. "Damn," Dean hissed, closing his eyes.

Taking advantage of Dean's bliss, Max stuck out his tongue and lapped up the precum oozing from Dean's hard-on. Dean squirmed, breathing hard and Max took that as his cue to proceed. He sucked the red hot dick head between his lips and swirled his tongue around it. Cupping Dean's balls with his left hand, Max took his right to fondle his own weeping dick, squeezing to release some pressure.

Mesmerized by the view, with Dean's chest heaving from his harsh breaths, body trembling from resisting the urge to buck his hips up, Max slowly took more and more of Dean's hot hard shaft in his mouth. Dean's hands were fisting in the sheets beneath him as his moans became louder and more frequent.

Watching Dean in near ecstasy made Max dick tingle with excitement. He may have started wanting to blow the hunter, but right now, Max wanted more out of it. Taking Dean deep into his mouth, Max stuck out his tongue to lap at Dean's balls, while holding an iron grip on his own cock.

The moment Dean felt the wet tongue on his sac, he couldn't help but buck up, drawing a choking noise from Max for a moment. Somehow that just intensified his need and Dean bucked up again. Max had anticipated it this time, though, and backed up slightly, scraping his teeth up along the steel-like rod to the head.

"Fuck, Max, not gonna last," Dean grunted. Max left hand felt the tell-tale tremble in Dean's balls and quickly clamped his right hand around the base of the trembling organ. Dean keened and lifted his head, watching his cock trembling, veins pulsating.

"Fuck, yes, Dean... you ready?"

Dean's eyes widened for a split moment, then Max squeezed some lube on his hand and lathered Dean's cock before working the remaining lube into his hole. Then Max released Dean's cock and kissed a quick trail up to his nipples before rolling over to lay next to Dean.

"Fuck me, Dean," Max rasped. "Wanna feel you inside."

It took Dean a moment to take in Max' request. Then, with a growl, Dean turned and positioned himself between the other man's legs, lining up his trembling cock with the rim.

"You sure, Max?"

"You ain't the first, stud. Come on, show me what you got," Max grinned. Dean grinned.

"Careful what you ask for, punk." With that he snapped his hips forward and buried himself in Max' tight hole. Max grunted as Dean's thick length stretched him over and over as Dean set on proving he knew quite well how to use his dick. Quickly he found his rhythm and soon the slapping of slick flesh on slick flesh mingled with heavy breathing and throaty groans.

It didn't take very long for Dean to lose his rhythm as the sensations began to build and build until they were almost impossible to contain. Max noticed the change in Dean's movements, the fine sheet of sweat covering his body, the tightly shut eyes, and wrapped his hand around his cock as he started to jack it in tandem with Dean's erratic thrusts.

Then Dean changed his angle slightly and discovered a spot on Max' prostate that sparked fireworks behind the younger man's eyes as he closed them. Max let go of his leaking cock to grab a fist full of bedding as he let out a flurry of groans.

"Oh _fuck_ , Dean," he rasped, breathlessly. "Don't stop, dontcha dare sssstop, I... I'm gonna bloooooow..."

Max' words ended in his hips bucking up involuntarily as his orgasm hit him like a freight train and he shot his pent up load, spurting cum all over Dean's chest and abs, as well as himself.

Dean growled, feeling Max' ass clamp down tight on his sensitive cock as he came. The doubled tightness paired with the spurts of hot jizz hitting his body triggered Dean's own orgasm and he pumped his load deep into Max' body.

 *****spn*****

Sam parked the Impala in front of their cabin, almost hurrying to get out of the black car and into the cabin. Quickly, he dropped the car keys on kitchen counter and headed towards the bedroom. He had to find Max and fill him in on his suspicion. Getting his wish as he rushed into the bedroom, Sam almost collided with a freshly showered Max coming from the bathroom.

Max was bare chested and only clad in his boxers as he was using a towel to dry his short hair. Both stopped short of each other to avoid a collision.

"Heya Sam," Max greeted, unconsciously casting a fleeting look at the bathroom over his own shoulder. "Didn't expect you back so soon. Did you find anything?"

"Yes, I... where's Dean?" Sam replied, looking around. He hadn't missed the quick glance of Max, and frowned. The shower was still running. Why did Max come out of a bathroom - half naked and freshly showered - when Dean was still in the shower?

Just then the shower switched off. Both Sam and Max were standing like frozen in time. Sam's mind was racing. It was so obvious. He shouldn't care who Dean got it on with, and he didn't, as long as it was chicks. Last time Sam checked, his brother wasn't interested in men.

Max read Sam's expression, saw him come to the only conclusion possible and tensed. There was only two ways Sam could react. Fight or flight. Now Max knew Sam was a fighter, but this wasn't about a hunt. This was about his big brother that Sam had a crush on since whenever and he'd never said anything. This would certainly not be fight.

The bathroom door opened with a tiny squeak and out of a cloud of steam stepped Dean, towel slung around his hips, hair sticking in a zillion different directions. Sam couldn't help but stare at his equally bare chested brother, eyes fixed on the tattoo.

"Hey Max, have you seen my... oh, hey there Sammy," Dean stopped short as he lifted his head, taking in the scene before him. Sam tore his eyes up from the ink to meet his brother's gaze. Dean wasn't quite sure what he saw in his brother's eyes, but hurt was one thing. Sam turned on his heel and practically ran out.

"Sam?"

Realizing his baby brother was bolting, Dean got rid of the towel and worked his damp body into his jeans as fast as he could. Not bothering with socks, he pulled on his boots without tying the laces.

"Ah damn, I told you he was checking you out, Dean," Max said softly as Dean dashed out of the bedroom and past the keys in the kitchen. Then he vanished through the front door, which banged heavily moments later.

"Sammy, wait up. SAM!"


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: A big thank you to the guest for the review. Appreciate all feedback so i know I'm doing something right!**

 *****SPN*****

"SAM!"

Dean stood on the porch seeing his brother walking towards the edge of the forest a few yards ahead of him. The cool breeze on his bare skin made him shiver slightly, but it didn't matter. Dean was fast and Sam wasn't running, just walking. In no time Dean had caught up to Sam, but Sam didn't stop.

"Sam," Dean said, walking after him. "Sam, stop." But Sam didn't listen. So Dean reached out and grabbed Sam's shoulder.

"I said stop, Sam!"

Spinning around without breaking his stride, Sam threw a solid punch at Dean's jaw. A punch that Dean had seen coming but was too stubborn to dodge.

With a crack, knuckles connected with bone, causing pain to shoot through both Dean's jaw and Sam's fist. Blood welled from where Dean's lip split open, dripping down his chin and onto his chest.

Wide eyed, Sam realized what he'd done, instantly feeling sorry. He'd been aggravated but he'd never thought Dean wouldn't see his punch coming.

" 'm sorry, Dean," Sam mumbled.

"No, you're not. You're angry," Dean corrected him. "Why are you angry, Sam?"

"I'm not angry, Dean."

"Alright. But you're hurt. And judging by the way you ran off like a betrayed lover, I have to ask."

Sam met Dean's eyes briefly, then looked away. "Don't, Dean."

"No, no, no... you're not getting out of this one. You've kinda walked in on me a few times and it never bothered you. Never! If anything, it embarrassed you. Now, why's it different with Max?"

Sam took a deep breath but didn't speak. His eyes were pleading with Dean to drop it. But dropping it didn't even cross Dean's mind.

"Is it because he's not a stranger or because he's a guy?"

"Dean," Sam pleaded again, fingers clenching and releasing.

"Cause if I didn't know you were into girls, I'd say you're jealous. Is that it, Sammy?" Dean crossed his arms in front of his chest, showing his brother he wasn't going to budge on this.

Finally Sam met Dean's eyes again, swimming with unshed tears. That's when Dean knew.

"You never said anything, Sammy," Dean rasped.

"Because you are into chicks. And you're my brother," Sam broke his silence. "You always made a show of making it clear you don't swing that way."

"Well, I don't. I didn't," Dean replied. Another drop of blood fell down from his chin onto his chest, painting the tattooed skin red. Sam's eyes focused on following the droplets as they made their way down his brother's torso.

"You should have said something, Sam. We would have figured it out. There's no shame in being gay, or bi... or whatever it is you are." Dean chuckled briefly. "Guess I gotta change my line, too. Swinging both ways so far isn't all that bad."

"Yeah, but we're still brothers, Dean. And I wouldn't force you to do anything you don't wanna do. I just can't help feeling the way I do."

"Is that way you were shy to pick up girls around me?"

"No, I... dunno. I like girls. And I'm not really into guys. It's always been just you, Dean. And I always knew that would never happen."

"That's not what I heard, Sam," Dean said.

"What?"

"I heard you were engaging with guys when I wasn't around," Dean put the cards on the table.

"Where...? I... Dean, alright. You heard right. But it's still always been about you. When you were gone, I...," Sam sighed. "They all reminded me of you. Look-alikes close enough so I could pretend, okay? It's nothing I'm very proud of."

"Sam...," Dean started, but Sam couldn't look at Dean. "Sammy," Dean insisted and closed the gap to pull his brother into his arms.

When Sam finally looked at his brother, Dean coaxed him in for a short kiss. Sam froze for a moment, but then it was like a dam broke and he kissed his brother back, wrapping his arms around Dean's bare back to make sure he didn't run. He gasped when Dean opened his mouth to let him in and when they came up for air, both were out of breath.

"Finally," Max called over from where he was standing, fully dressed now, just outside the cabin. Dean turned around, a tiny smile playing around his lips.

"Let's get back inside, Sammy. We can talk about this later. For now I think we got a case to solve," Dean said.

"It's Sam," Sam replied, making Dean grin. "And yeah, let's get back. Judging by your perky nipples, you're either getting cold or horny."

Dean snorted as they started walking. "Or both," he mumbled, feeling Sam's smile on him.

Max scrutinized the brothers as they approached side by side, noticing the bloodied torso and lip of Dean's.

"I see he clocked you good," he remarked.

"Yeah. Almost forgot how much his punches sting. I trained him good," Dean replied, winking at Sam. Sam only rolled his eyes.

"Right. So, are you two good?"

"I'd say so, Max," Dean replied. "Will take some time and words still but I think we should get that case figured out before."

Max nodded. Then he looked at Sam. "Are we good?"

Sam studied the younger man and then looked at his brother. Redirecting his gaze on Max, Sam nodded.

"Yeah, we're good."

"Sure?"

"He said we're all good, Max. You can take his word," Dean said firmly and then walked past Max to get inside because by now he was really feeling chilly.

He picked up his towel to wipe the blood off himself and then proceeded to get properly dressed. When he finished, he looked up and saw two sets of eyes watching his every move.

"Geez, you guys are creepy," Dean said, shaking his head. "So, Sam, what do you have."

Sam cleared his throat. "Okay, listen up. Apparently the first murder suicide of the cops involved were best friends. Best. Friends. Nobody has an explanation why they did it. Jackie Kline witnessed the shooting. She said, and I quote, that the shooter looked like he didn't want to do what he did. That he struggled but looked powerless. She said, it looked like magic. Dark magic."

"Magic?" Max piped up, frowning. "That would be some real dark magic playing." It was quiet for a moment. Then both Dean and Max spoke simultaneously.

"Were there any hexbags found?"

Sam's eyes grew wide and he blew out some air in surprise. "Um, no. Nothing that could be a hex bag."

"Well, if it's magic, that would be very advance witchcraft. We're looking for a natural witch. No wiccan or similar. Dark mojo," Max stated.

"You are a natural witch, aren't you, Max?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, but I got nothing to do with it," Max said firmly.

"We know," Sam jumped in. "But could you tell when you're there if magic was used?"

"Yeah. Sure. I can reveal any kind of magic," Max nodded.

"Great, get your best suits on and let's go," Dean got up and grabbed his suit, along with the keys to his Baby.

 *****spn*****

Sam was reading the files about the drug bust as well as the consequent murder suicides for the umpteenth time, not able to shake the feeling he missed something. His brother and Max were inconspicuously checking over the whole P.D., room by room. Luckily, most officers were on the road so that didn't prove too difficult.

Dean lead Max to the part of the building where him and Sam had witnessed the shooting, unable to prevent it. Max looked around, taking things in. Then he frowned.

Muttering a few unintelligible words he moved his hand through the air, almost like he was cleaning an invisible window. Then he huffed.

"What?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Look," Max replied, repeating his hand movement. This time, Dean noticed a purplish sparkle in the wake of Max' motion.

"What's that?"

"There was magic used alright," Max explained. "And I'm not talking hexbags. But it's... distorted. And advanced. Weird."

"Can you put that into non witch talk?" Dean frowned. Max chuckled.

"A very advanced dark spell is at work here, but whoever cast it, has little to no knowledge about this kind of magic. It doesn't make sense." Max walked a few steps and repeared his gestures. "It's like an ignorant kid stumbled across a spell book and gave it a try."

"Why don't you sound convinced?" Dean followed Max to the middle of the room.

"Because magic isn't that easy to do if you're non magical," Max looked at Dean. "If I give you a spell book, just reading the words out loud won't do anything. Magic isn't that negligent. You'd need certain ingredients, hand motions, potions or passwords to perform a spell. Especially when it comes to such complex and dark magic."

"So, what you're saying is whoever cast the spell was non magic but had help?" Dean asked.

"Yes. And not just any help."

Sam appeared in the doorway. "Guys, I found something."

Instantly, Dean's and Max' attention was on the younger Winchester.

"Shoot," Dean prompted.

"In the days after the drug bust, the victim's boyfriend Walter frequently showed up drunk at the PD and yelled at the officers. Like at least once a day. He was angry, upset. Then, three days before the first suicide, he came in again. Drunk as before, but this time not yelling and ranting. He only said that he put a curse on everyone involved. And didn't show up anymore."

Max and Dean raised their eyebrows and shared a glance.

"Of course nobody here took him seriously. This info was only added into the file after three of the policemen were dead."

"Hmm," Dean puffed. "I guess it's time to pay Mr. Smythe our condolences."

 *****spn*****

Dean cut the engine of his black 67 Impala right in front of the shabby looking, run down excuse of a bungalow which was where Walter lived. The fence separating the front yard from the road was half rotten, wooden panels out of place, white paint peeling off.

The brothers exchanged a meaningful glance and then joined Max, who had already exited the car. Dean made sure his colt was in place before they walked up the broken up tiles of the pathway towards the front door. When they reached the porch, Dean went to knock on the door.

For about two minutes it was quiet, and Dean was about to knock again, when a scrawny, squeaky voice called out.

"Go away!"

Raising his eyebrows, Dean put on a fake grin and knocked once more. He put in enough force that Sam feared the door might crumble under the vibration.

"Walter Smythe? We're with the FBI, Agents Dogget, Reyes and... Black," Dean called, not looking at his partners because he knew they'd both be rolling their eyes. "We've come to talk about Mandy Simmons."

For a moment it was quiet. Then the same, whiny voice replied.

"There's nothing to talk about. She's dead. Go away!"

"No can do, Mr. Smythe," Sam chimed in. "You know, there have been more deaths."

Silence came again from behind the door. Finally, with a click and a screech, the battered door swung open. The hallway was unlit and the hunters could barely make out the thin, tattery form of a man. He had sandy blond hair, hanging in strands from his head and looking like it hadn't been washed in days. Pale grey eyes pierced them from sunken in eyes. He watched his visitors for a moment, gauging if he should use the knife he was badly hiding behind his back, or not.

"I heard about the other deaths," Walter said. "Serves them right."

"You know those cops didn't mean to kill Mandy," Max prompted, stepping forward. "But, we're not here to analyze her unfortunate death. We just would like to know..."

"Know what?" Walter cut in, growling.

"In the days after her death you've been to the PD daily," Sam elaborated. "And then, nothing."

"So?" Walter shrugged.

"And then the cops started to drop, one by one," Dean took over. "All six of those who were involved."

"I realized that shouting at them wouldn't bring Mandy back," Walter replied. "That's why I stopped coming."

"You sure?" Max raised an eyebrow. "You know, people in the PD, they talk."

"Yeah? What do they say?"

"Oh, they talk about it beeing eerie, like there's a curse on them. They're scared," Max sallied.

"A curse?" Walter laughed awkwardly. "Really? They believe in curses?"

"You have to admit, it's a bit of a coincidence. That you stop harrassing the officers, and then they drop like flies," Dean's voice held a hint of venom in it. Walter stared at him.

"They had it coming. But you can't blame me, I never touched them. I wasn't there when they offed themselves."

The three hunters exchanged some meaningful glances.

"How do you know that?" Sam asked. "The media never said how they died."

Walter's eyes grew big, wild. And then, without so much as a warning, he tossed his knife at Dean, who ducked out of harm's way, and ran. Walter had the advantage to know his way through the back of the house and out the back door, but he was no match for Dean. Before Walter had reached the edge of his garden, Dean caught up and tackled him to the ground.

"You know," Dean growled, picking Walter up by the scruff of his neck, "innocent people don't run." Unceremoniously, the older Winchester dragged the struggling man back to his house.

Max was waiting in the back porch, a book in his hands. He looked slightly worried.

"That bad?" Dean called.

"We're talking serious magic here, Dean," Max replied and stepped aside to let them in. In the living room, Sam was standing next to a bowl adorned with witch markings. Dean pushed the scrawny man onto an old, warn armchair.

"Right, Walter," he fake smiled. "We're all ears. You neither look nor act like a modern day witch, or any witch at all. So, why won't you be a good boy and give us a name."

Walter's eyes grew big as saucers. "But... I can't," he stuttered.

"Sure you can," Dean grinned charmingly, running his hand through his gelled hair which caused his suit jacket to ride up and grant Walter a glimpse of the shiny colt.

"I... I really can't," Walter hastened to say. "I don't know her name, really. She never said. I didn't even know magic was real before she popped up on my doorstep with this creepy-ass book in her hands."

"She?" All three hunters asked in unison.

"Yeah, red long hair, make-up till nowhere, acting sweet but... scary as hell," Walter explained.

"Damn," Dean muttered, looking at Sam. Max frowned.

"Sound like someone you know?"

"Damn right," Dean muttered before turning back to Walter. "Okay, so you say she just popped up on your doorstep." Walter nodded eagerly. "And why would she do this? How would she know you'd want her help?"

Walter shrugged. "I don't know. How would I know? She's a witch. I ain't gonna argue with a witch."

Max blinked rapidly. "Sure. But, knowing witches as I do, they don't just wander about knocking on doors to see if someone might want to use or abuse their magic."

"You know witches? You know her?" Walter looked even more scared now. "Hell, I didn't know magic was real when I found this weird ass written page in a trash bin at the park. Couldn't even make out the words, not even reading out loud, so I was gonna use it for kindling the fireplace."

"Uh oh," Sam said softly.

"Yeah. Red head showed up before I could do that, though. Offered me compensation if I'd hand her the pages."

"And you said yes," Max stated.

"Well, she was scary. I would've handed her the pages for nothing as well. Didn't think her hocus pocus would work anyways. She told me to say a few words when I went in the PD that last time and then stay away."

"What words?" Max was on full alert.

"Err, vitae vestri pro vita tua," Walter said slowly. "She, um.. told me to sprinkle a powder wherever I could in the PD as well."

"Powder?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, some brownish, greyish, grainy stuff."

"Goofer dust," Max nodded, while Dean lifted his head in apprehension. "Right, if we have any more questions, we know where to find you. And we will find you."

Not waiting for a reply, Max turned and walked back to the black car. Sam and Dean nodded at Walter and then turned to follow behind.

"Goofer dust, eh?" Dean shook his head. "Amazing where all we come across that, right?" He looked up at his brother, expecting a geeky reply, but Sam's eyes were fixed on something ahead of them. Following his brother's gaze, Dean realized he was checking out Max' backside.

Dean's eyes narrowed slightly, then he snorted and shook his head.

"Yo, Sammy, I bet you can bounce a nickel off his ass, eh?"

Sam nodded absentmindedly. Then Dean's words registered and he looked at his brother wild eyed.

"I... what? Dean, really?" Sam's inability to form a straightforward sentence amused Dean, but he couldn't suppress a pinch of jealousy running through his blood.

"I thought it was all about me, little brother. Last time I checked, Max didn't have these gorgeous freckles." He smirked and Sam huffed out a laugh. "But I get it, Sammy. That ass is nice."

"Dean!" Sam blushed, not sure he wanted to know what Dean was implying. Then he decided that two could play that game. "I take it you've tested it?"

"To some extent, yeah. Not thoroughly. But yes, you can bounce a nickel off it alright," Dean took Sam's bait in stride. "Bet the same can be said about yours, Sammy."

"Does that mean you're gonna test it?" Sam grinned slyly as they arrived by the car.

"You two are worse than an old, married couple," Max chuckled. "What do you wanna test?"

Before Dean could smart mouth a reply, Sam gave his brother a smack across his ass, which was filling those dress pants quite nicely. Dean looked like he got stung by a bee, causing Max to laugh heartily.

"I get it, I get it," the young man grinned and opened the back door to slide in. Then the brothers both had taken their seats and Dean steered his baby back towards the cabin.

"So... Rowena is behind all this," Sam started. "I'm just wondering, with this curse... is it all over now that the officers involved are all gone?"

"No," Max said firmly. "That spell, it doesn't specify who's the target. It goes after everyone Walter thinks is at fault. And that includes the police as a whole. I'm sure there'll be more victims."

"So we better see that we find Rowena to put a stop to this," Sam growled.

"Right, let's get out of these monkey suits and stake out Walter," Dean nodded and put his foot on the gas.

"Damn, and here I thought I'd get to test out the nickle bounce first," Sam sighed dramatically and ran his index finger lazily over Dean's thigh. Dean hissed and gripped the steering wheel tighter, which made Max laugh.

"No worries, Sam. I put a tracking spell on Walter. I'll know when he is on the move or gets a magical visitor." Max grinned when Sam glanced at him and winked.

Dean covered Sam's hand and replaced it on Sam's thigh. "Right, but let me drive. You won't be able to test anything if I crash this beauty."


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: A big thanks to all readers and the reviews Enjoy the next chapter ;)**

 ********SPN*********

The second Dean cut the engine at the cabin, Sam's hand was back on his thigh, causing Dean to try to stifle a groan.

"You've always been a greedy kid, Sammy, but now you're overdoing it," Dean sighed, turning his head to look at his brother. Sam, not one to let an opportunity pass if he set his eyes on it, quickly leaned in and sucked Dean's lower lip between his own.

"Gee, Sam. Really?" Dean pulled free and cast a fleeting glance at Max in the back seat. "Ya gonna give Max here an eyeful."

Sam smirked, not withdrawing his hand from where it was slowly crawling up Dean's thigh.

"Oh, I'm sure Max wouldn't mind a li'l show," he said huskily. Max unconsciously licked his lips at that.

Dean's mind was racing. He was torn between his desire for Sam, his still lingering trepidation of doing anything more than kissing with his own brother, and he wasn't sure whether having an audience was scaring him or turning him on even more. He needed time. Sam was going too fast.

Clamping a strong hand down on where Sam's was very close to touching his interested dick, Dean mustered all the self control he had left.

"Pump your breaks, baby bro. I know Max wouldn't mind a show, but I'm not gonna make out with my little brother in the car because I can't make it back to the cabin. Don't wanna have to clean the upholstery, ya know."

"It wouldn't be blood you're cleaning, at least," Sam grinned, fumbling with his pocket to get the cabin's key out. "Right, Dean... here's the key. You got two minutes to get your ass inside or I'll..." He trailed off and grinned, stepping out of the sleek, black car.

Sam walked dramatically around the front of Baby, dragging those sinfully long fingers of his across her hood in a tease, his eyes never losing contact with Dean's. He was daring his big brother to chase him.

"You know, you can tell him if you're not ready," Max piped up from the backseat.

Dean almost jumped; he'd nearly forgotten him back there. "You don't know Sammy. He'll think I'm rejecting him after I just started all this, that I'm playing him. I just need a sec okay?"

"Alright, I'll just go grab a beer. Maybe the uh, show, just needs a 'dress' rehearsal," said Max, with one eyebrow raised.

Dean growled, "Shut up."

Max laughed heartily and got out of the car to walk up front and open Dean's door for him. Sam was sitting on the hood, eyes still fixed on his big brother. A tiny, lustful smile was playing around the edges on his mouth. When Dean tore his gaze from Max keeping the door open, Sam made sure his brother caught a glimpse of him licking his lips.

"You two are gonna kill me," Dean sighed and finally swung his feet outside. Shutting the door, he was standing right in front of Max, feeling Sam's intense gaze on his back. Dean leaned closer to Max and brought his mouth close enough to his ear that Max could feel his hot breath on his skin. Max grit his teeth to suppress a shudder. "You wanted a show, Witch Boy, I'm gonna show you some magic."

Dean's voice was rough, thick and promising, just loud enough that Sam could make out the words. Words that didn't miss their effect as both Sam and Max groaned softly. With a sly grin, Dean worked on loosening his tie with one hand. He turned towards Sam as he pulled it off and closed the gap between them.

Nudging Sam's knees apart, Dean stepped right into Sam's personal space, looking unabashed at the growing bulge stretching his brother's dress pants. Slowly he looked up at Sam and gently pulled at his tie, forcing Sam to follow him.

Inside the cabin, Dean was finally in his comfort zone. What could go wrong? He was an expert at seducing. Women, usually, but his little adventure with Max earlier had taught him it wasn't really much different when it came to men.

Max was the last to set foot into the cabin. As he pulled the door closed, Dean's mouth was devouring Sam's and the younger man groaned. It was a noise that went straight to Max' dick. Quickly, the youngest hunter walked over to one of the queens and sprawled himself on it, making short work of the confining fabric such as his tie, jacket and the top few buttons of his pale blue dress shirt.

Meanwhile Dean seemed to have thrown any doubts out the window as his hands pulled Sam's shirt out of his dress pants and then sneaked under it, roaming Sam's well muscled back, tracing scars, caressing, never taking his lips off his brother's. Sam, bold after realizing Dean had discarded his reservations, pulled his brother's hips flush with his own. His steadily filling dick pressed happily against Dean's and instinctively, they both rocked their hips forward.

Sam started pulling Dean's dress shirt out of his pants and up over his head, only stopping because Dean needed to shrug out of the jacket and swiftly got rid of his tie. Then the shirt was gone and Sam's eyes devoured Dean's bare chest.

"See something you like, Sammy?" Dean sallied, challenging. Instead of a reply, Sam growled softly and like a giant mountain cat he tackled his brother onto the bed right behind him. Dean hit the sheets and the next moment Sam's tall frame covered him completely.

Sneaking a hand in between them, Sam cupped Dean's crotch, squeezing the hardness he felt struggling in its confines. Dean groaned and bucked his hips up, threading his hands through Sam's silky hair. Suddenly the pressure on his cock lessened and the older Winchester realized his baby brother had popped the belt and button of his pants, making short work of the zipper. When Sam tugged on the waistband, all Dean could do was lift his hips so Sam could pull them down.

Sam wasn't a newbie to undressing a man and pulling down Dean's boxer briefs along with his pants was an easy task. In no time, his brother was buck naked, sprawled out on the bed, cock jutting up straight, almost touching his abs. A strangled moan from the side caused Sam to glance over at Max, who had lost his shirt by now, hand stuffed down his pants. Sam grinned and winked at him.

Dean, not idle, unbuttoned his brother one handed while the other hand sized up his brother's girth through the fabric. Holding still, Sam let his brother work him free, revealing his own aching hard member.

"Beautiful, Sammy," Dean breathed, propping himself up on his elbows.

"Ditto," Sam replied huskily, eyes fixed on his brother's leaking cock. Then their eyes met briefly and Sam knelt down on the edge of the bed, sealing his lips around Dean's velvety, hot cock head. Lapping Dean's precum up with his tongue drew tiny, breathless moans from his mouth. Part of Dean's brain remarked that his brother seemed to be awfully familiar with giving head, but any further thought was smothered when Sam swirled his long tongue around the sensitive head, tracing every part of it. Dean's breath was coming in puffs and his fingers started to grip tight into the sheets.

"Fuck, Sammy, so good," he moaned, rolling his eyes in pleasure. It took all he had not to thrust into Sam's mouth, stuffing his cock down his throat. Dean's eyes fell on Max, dick out and in his hand, lazily stroking his length while his eyes were fixed on where Sam was blowing him. Dean grinned blissfully before closing his eyes again.

Sam kept lapping and sucking on Dean's dick like it was going out of fashion, one hand dropping down to squeeze his own, aching member. His eyes kept darting over to Max, taking in how the young man was getting himself worked up just watching them. It was exciting Sam even more.

Dean started making strangled noises in his throat, hips trembling in the losing battle he was fighting to keep his hips still. Sam noticed that and a smiled tugged on his cock-filled mouth. He let go of his dripping dick, rubbing his hand over the tip to scoop up his own precum. Then he gently started spreading it over his brother's tight balls.

"Fuck, Sam," Dean panted.

"Go ahead, Dean," Sam said, taking his lips off his brother's cock only long enough to speak. "Wanna taste your spunk."

Dean lifted his head just in time to see his brother swallowing his cock balls deep, his fingers still busy with Dean's balls, and it was too much. With a low growl Dean threw his head back, eyes squeezed shut tight and bucked his hips up, unable to control their movement as Sam eagerly sucked up and swallowed his load.

When he was done, Sam looked up at his brother's heaving chest, eyes still closed. When he glanced over to Max, Sam saw he had let go of his fully erect dick, which was trembling in excitement. Max was biting his bottom lip as his eyes roamed over Dean's sweaty body until his gaze locked with Sam's.

Sam grinned and quickly ran his tongue over his lips. Then he motioned for Max to join them with a nod of his head. Max' eyebrows climbed up slowly and he cocked his head in question. Sam nodded and watched Max get up, getting rid of his remaining clothes. He walked over and sat on the bed next to Dean, leaning in to Sam for a kiss as his hand ran over Dean's chest.

Sam opened his lips to let Max in, and they engaged in a heated battle of dueling tongues. Max' hands weren't idle and he wrapped one around Sam's aching erection, while the other made its way down Dean's still quickly rising chest to where the man's cock hadn't yet lost much of its hardness.

It was Max' turn to moan, however, when he felt Sam's long fingers unerringly finding his throbbing dick, returning the favor with a firm squeeze. Then Max' hands worked up a rhythm which Sam matched until their moans mingled in their mouths and Dean started pumping his cock into Max's fist. Sam and Max parted and turned at the motion, realizing the older Winchester had been watching them all along.

"Don't stop on my account," Dean rasped, never stumbling in the rhythm he'd worked up. Max tightened his fingers around the fat shaft, increasing the friction. Dean groaned. He was rock hard again despite having just enthusiastically jizzed down his brother's throat. That thought alone made his cock twitch and his breath hitch.

Sam grinned and smoothly stretched out his long arms to fumble for his duffel bag. Triumphantly, he produced a small bottle of lube and dangled it between two long, slender fingers. Dean's eyes grew wide and he wantonly licked his plump bottom lip.

"Want you to take me, Dean," Sam purred. "Been wanting that for so long already."

"Ugh," Dean all but mewled at the vivid picture this invoked in his lust-blown mind.

"Loved tasting your juice, Dean, now I wanna feel you shoot inside me," Sam continued to tease.

"You didn't have to do that, you know Sammy?" Dean replied breathlessly, because Max' hand was now scraping well manicured fingernails over the velvet skin of his engorged penis.

"You got no idea how long I've been waiting to do that," Sam rasped on. "How bad I want this now; to feel your hot, hard cock stretch my ass."

Sam pulled one leg up on the bed, giving Dean visual access to his puckered hole. "Been using a plug at times, pretending it was your fingers stretching me so good," Sam cooed, handing the lube to Max. "Wanna see?"

Dean just nodded dazedly, words getting caught in his lust filled brain. Taking the hint and the invitation, Max squeezed a generous amount of lube onto two fingers. Gently, he pushed Sam down and spread his legs in such a manner that Dean had full view of what his golden brown fingers would do to Sam's pink hole, while not obstructing the view to Sam's gorgeously hard and leaking cock.

Expertly, Max worked the lube to stretch Sam open and Dean's hand developed a mind of its own, wrapping around and stroking himself, lips darkened, wet with saliva, tongue sneaking out constantly. Max didn't know whether to watch Sam's dilated pupils fixed on his brother or Dean jerking his impressive cock.

Working a third finger in Sam's ass, Max decided to trigger things and engulfed Sam's glans in the wet heat of his mouth, cheeks hollowing as he sucked hard. Dean gasped loudly. Satisfied, Max let go of Sam's dick with a plop, causing Sam to groan huskily. Then Max moved behind Sam, cradling him between his legs, his own dick trapped between himself and Sam's back.

"He's all yours, stud," Max coaxed, wrapping his hand around Sam's cock once more. With a feral growl, Dean pushed up to his knees and closed the gap until his cock head nudged the shiny entrance of his brother. He steadied his throbbing cock with a firm hand and locked his eyes on Sam's, silently asking for his brother's permission. Sam's tongue sneaked out to wet his parted lips and he nodded.

"Want you," Sam husked and Dean was gone. With a sure stroke, he buried himself in his brother, eyes closed as he kept the pressure up to stay in deep for a few moments so Sam could get used to him, savoring the snug tightness around his dick. Max was steadily jerking Sam's red-headed cock, Dean's eyes fixed on the sight. Unconsciously he started moving just in sync with Max hand, slightly at first, until the pressure and the tingling in his cock pushed aside any thought of making this last.

With a keening growl Dean bottomed out and snapped his hips forward over and over. Sam's sinful moans were the sweetest inducement Dean could ask for. Behind Sam, Max was feeling the force of Dean's thrusts on his own dick as Sam got shoved against him over and over. Soon all three of them were a moaning mess. Sam's cock was dripping precum all over Max' fist and his back was wet from Max' juices. The sight made the fire pool deep in Dean's balls and his rhythm became sloppy.

"Sammy, Sammy, Sammy," he rasped with every thrust, unable to stop pistoning into Sam's tight ass.

"Cum for me, Dean," Sam choked between moans and Dean was done for. His brain seemed to implode with fireworks as his balls drew up tight and he blew his load, buried balls deep.

Spent, Dean pulled out dazedly watching his spunk running out of Sam. He laid back against the wall, trying to control his breathing, eyes fixed on where Max had let go of Sam's cock. Dean watched in blissed awe as Max crawled around and took Sam's shiny, red erection back between his lips, taking him deeper and deeper. Soon Sammy started bucking up into Max mouth and throat, pleading and grunting.

"Please Max, can I... oh fuck... wanna fuck you, please... need to... sooo bad," Sam mewled between ragged breaths, hips never stopping for even a second. Max released the trembling dick, slick with a mix of saliva and precum, and rolled onto his back next to Dean.

"Wanna show big bro what your cock can do, Sam? Wanna show him you can make me cum untouched?" Max breathed seductively as he drew up his knees, exposing his own ass.

"Fuck yes," Sam rasped, not waiting for a second invitation. A moment later he shoved his massive, ready-to-blow cock in Max' non-virgin tunnel, plowing away. Eyes locked with his brother, Sam didn't need long to feel the tell-tale tingle in his balls. Sam changed his angle and the soft moans of Max changed into a litany of 'oh fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck' as his balls drew up tight and at the next jab of Sam's cock to his prostate, Max howled his release, painting not only his own chest, but Dean's and even Sam's white with his release.

At the sight, Sam's body shuddered and he exploded with his brother's name on his lips, pumping his hot cum into Max' body with each sloppy thrust until his spent dick softened and slipped out.

"Fuck," Max moaned after a good few minutes, getting his breathing back in order. He lifted his head and noticed Sam had sort of collapsed onto his brother and was out. Dean was almost in the same state, lazily holding his brother in his arms, eyes half mast.

His body was feeling lethargic, but Max didn't want to intrude any more than he had to and tore his tired body upright. Spreading a blanket over the brothers, he noticed Dean's green eyes had drifted shut. Max smiled fondly and shuffled over to the adjacent bed, plopping down on it heavily. He just managed to pull another blanket over himself before he slipped into a deep, sated sleep.

 *****spn*****

He didn't know how long he'd been napping, but when Max woke, it was anything but gentle. A feeling like someone was knocking on the inside of his skull made him bolt upright like someone stuck a knife in his ass cheek. He wasn't quite sure for a moment where he was or what was happening.

Max recognized the cabin's interior but it was off. It looked like he was seeing everything though red tinted fishbowl glass. Finally he focused on an unfamiliar, yet familiar face. That's when his sleep fogged brain realized what it was. Another witch was contacting him via a vision, an astral projection.

"So, you are Tasha's lad," a squeaky, female voice with a heavy Scottish accent said sweetly. Max focused on the face, making out slender features with unbelievably red hair. In the background a vaguely familiar building moved in and out of focus. Max' breath hitched when he identified it as Walter Smythe's house. Everything clicked into place.

"Rowena?"

"Ah," the red haired witch purred. "You know me?"

Max scoffed. "Hardly. But I know your reputation. What do you want?"

The sweet smile on Rowena's face vanished, to be replaced with a harsh, almost rancorous expression.

"I want the book," Rowena spat.

"The book?" Max repeated. "What do you want with it?"

"That's none of your business, lad," Rowena cut in. "Point is, I found it. And I am using its spell. So you better give it back, pup."

"What for? I know you won't do anything good with it."

"Clearly you've been listening to those Winchester boys too closely," Rowena sighed, rolling her eyes dramatically. Then she put on a fake, broad smile. "I need it, because I have something that will enhance its powers even more, and when I've merged the book with it, I can... use it for the greater good."

"Greater good my ass," Max muttered. "Why did you leave the book with Walter then? Why let him use one of its spells to kill innocent people?"

Rowena laughed. "Oh, sweet Max, nobody is innocent. I felt sorry for the man, but I needed the pages he found. It's always the most unworthy that have the damn luck to find important stuff despite being completely clueless," Rowena scoffed derisively. "He couldn't even remember the spell. I'm surprised he didn't forget the goofer dust."

"Oh, so you left the book with him to read the spell off," Max nodded. "Bad mistake, Rowena. And that from a supposedly ancient and very knowledgeable witch."

Rowena's eyes grew dark and glared at Max. "It's none of your business, pup. Don't go sticking your nose where it doesn't belong. You can tell your two hunter brat friends that I will trade the book for Walter, at a place similar to yours, other side of town. Watch out for the noctua."

With that Rowena broke the connection and Max fell back on the bed, feeling like he'd been punched in the gut. Breathing heavily for a minute to gather his bearings, Max finally worked himself upright. He grabbed his duffel bag to pull out his clothes and walked over to where Sam was spooning his brother on the other bed.

"Sam," Max called, stretching out his hand to shake Sam's shoulder. Before he came even close to touching Sam, Dean's arms shot up and gripped his tightly.

"It's me, Dean," Max hastened to say, before either of the Winchesters had the chance to use him for combat practice.

"Max," Dean growled, letting go of Max' arm. "Don't do that. I could have killed you."

Max was sure anyone who didn't know Dean Winchester and walked into this scenario would have laughed. But he did know Dean and knew the truth in his words.

"Guys, get dressed. I know where Rowena is. She has Walter. She wants a trade."


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: A big thank you for the reviews and reading it. Here's the next installment. Hope you enjoy it!**

 *****SPN*****

Dean was steering the Impala through the first golden slivers of dawn, following the short, clipped directions Max gave from the back seat. They had cruised through the sleeping city of Cascade and entered another world of wooded hill tops. Road signs to huts, chalets and cabins with more or less colorful names started popping up left, right and center.

"What are we looking for?" Dean asked over the rumbling of his car.

"The noctua," Max provided. Dean frowned.

"Noctua," Sam echoed. "That something to do with noctem... like night?"

"It's a nocturnal...," Max started but Dean cut in.

"Owl, Sammy. Your Latin getting rusty?"

Sam pouted. "Not like we use an owl for an exorcism."

"Right, but it is a magical animal," Dean stated. He glanced over at Sam, catching his exasperated eye roll and smirked. "And I knew that before reading Harry Potter."

Sam gasped and Max chuckled. He didn't know the brothers all that long yet, but it was clear that Sam was used to being the one with the answers. The younger Winchester stared out of the window in an attempt to ignore his brother's victory dance on the steering wheel.

"Right. Try not to run us off the street, jerk," he mumbled.

The drove on in silence, three pairs of eyes scrutinizing the environment for anything owlish. Finally, Sam tapped Dean's shoulder, pointing to his right.

"There, that could be it," he said, pointing out a wooden sign just sporting the crude and weather worn outlines of something that could be an owl.

"Let's check it out."

Five minutes later Dean pulled up at a weather worn but solid and quite size-able cabin. The boys left the car and Dean distributed weapons, including witch killing bullets. Max scowled involuntarily. Dean shook his head.

"I don't know why you have a problem with those, Max," he said.

"Umm... witch killing bullets, Dean. Surely you didn't forget, that..."

"... I had sex with a witch. No, I didn't," Dean cut in. "Listen. Anything in here could kill Sammy or me and we don't make a big deal about it."

"I know," Max hissed. "I just never had to use these. Usually I fight magic with magic. So forgive me if this is new to me."

Dean looked at his friend, raising an eyebrow. Sam shot his brother a disapproving glance.

"You know, Max, Dean can be a grade A ass sometimes. Nevermind him."

"Grade A, I noticed," Max replied, relaxing. Then he stepped forward and scrutinized the building.

"That the right place?" Sam asked. Max just nodded and moved his hand across the front of the building.

"Reveal," he murmured and purplish sparkling sigils appeared on the walls. Max frowned.

"What?" Dean asked, catching on Max' reaction.

"Trouble," Max murmured. "I'm not sure I want you to go in there."

"Why?" Sam frowned. Max sighed.

"It's a targeted spell. And if I'm not mistaken, it's aimed at you two. Meaning, you can enter, but you can't leave."

"But you can?" Dean asked.

"Possible. My magic is powerful enough I'd say."

"If you can't, does this spell follow the rules other spells usually do?" Sam looked at Max.

"That the spell breaks if the witch dies?"

"Yes," Sam nodded.

"Most likely. But at any rate, if not, I should be able to counter it and get you guys out of there. It just won't be fast, meaning if she's still around and active when we have to retreat, I might have a problem."

The brothers held a silent pow-wow just looking at each other. Then Dean nodded.

"Let's go in."

"Wait," Max called, putting a hand on Dean's shoulder. "I could put up some protection."

"Protection?" Sam frowned. "From?"

"From Rowena being able to totally bewitch you," Max replied. "Think of it as a repellent. She won't be able to use any mind magic on you."

"Mind magic?" Now Dean frowned.

"Like she won't be able to conjure spells from her mind that would harm you. Only physical impact spells could. There's no real protection from those. But it'd mean she has to say the spell out loud, which gives us a bit of warning."

"Hm," Dean huffed. "Not sure how that'll help but by all means, go ahead. I warn you, though, if there are any funny side effects, I'll have your ass."

Max smirked. "Don't give me ideas, Winchester." Max closed his eyes and mumbled a few words neither Sam nor Dean could make out. His eyes started glowing purple and a moment later the brothers had the urge to shake themselves, as a feeling like sawdust raining down on them washed over them briefly.

"That... was weird," Sam gasped.

"Yeah, but you're much safer now," Max nodded.

"Right. Keep cracking now. We wasted enough time."

Dean drew his colt and proceeded towards the main door.

 *****spn*****

Weapons at the ready, the three hunters entered the building after Dean found the front door to be unlocked. Smelling a trap miles away, as Dean put it, the three decided not to split up. They had to be extra careful.

Sam pushed open the first door to reveal an empty guest bathroom. Dean and Max had been heading on and Sam quickly tried to catch up to cover their backs. The door Dean pushed open produced an equally empty bedroom. There was an extra door on the east wall of it, and judging by the layout of the cabin, it was bound to be a connecting door to the next room.

"Max?" Dean whispered.

"Clear," Max mouthed back. He had been checking the door to the left. The Winchesters exchanged a look and Max was once again tempted to use his powers to read their minds, but he had sworn years ago to himself never to do that to friends.

Sam nodded at his brother and soundlessly sneaked back to the hall to approach from the door there while Dean and Max would enter from the bedroom. How the brothers, out of each other's line of sight, managed to find the exact same moment to burst through the doors would forever be a mystery to Max, but he saw that Dean's shoulder barge was carefully calculated to be at the right moment.

The scene that unfolded in front of Max' eyes made it clear that all involved knew exactly what to expect. In the very center of the room, Walter Smythe was cowering on the floor, locked in a magic circle Rowena had conjured around him. It was protected by sigils Dean and Sam had never seen. Max however knew it wouldn't be easy to let Walter out of his invisible prison walls.

Rowena herself was standing at the other end of the room, clothed in a long robe like dress, arms folded loosely in front of her chest. Her flaming red hair almost seemed to glow and the smile on her equally red lips was bitter sweet.

Her eyes fell on Sam's first, gun with the special witch bullets firmly in his hands, aim dead center on her chest.

"Samuel," she greeted him, then focused onto the other Winchester, same stance at his brother. Max noticed a flicker in her green eyes, which he couldn't quite read, but he could feel her mood change when she eyed Dean.

"Rowena," Dean growled.

"Ah, ye still remember me," the witch replied sweetly. "No residual side effects of the curse left, I see. Ye want to introduce yer friend... Max?"

"As if you don't know who he is," Dean replied, tight lipped. Rowena chuckled and grinned.

"Ah yes. The hunter, and the hunted at the same time. Interesting. Don't hunters usually kill witches?" Her eyes were piercing Dean's, then Sam's.

"Well, we didn't kill you," Sam countered.

"Oh, and how guid that was," Rowena chirped. "Else sweet Dean here would be as dead as a little mouse caught in the beak of an owl."

Involuntarily, Dean gripped his colt tighter. "Yet," he ground out.

"Oh, ma boy, don't say that. Ye owe me, ye nyaff."

"I might owe you, but there's just so much crap you can catch on before you've used up my dues," Dean said evenly. "What's your game?"

"Ma game?" Rowena sounded astounded, but even Max could tell the thick layered falseness in her voice. This was one witch that couldn't be trusted any further than she could be thrown.

"Quit the charade and tell us," Sam prompted. "What do you want with Walter and why did you let him use that spell? Why kill all those people?"

"That was his choice, dear Sam. I'm not the monster here."

Dean scoffed, looking disgusted. Rowena chose to ignore him.

"This dunderheid was so full of grief, he needed an outlet."

"And you decided to help him out of the goodness of your black heart," Sam replied, sarcasm coloring his words.

"What was in it for you?" Dean backed up Sam's challenge.

"Naething," Rowena replied and this time it was Max who scoffed. He didn't know Rowena but from what he'd just seen and heard he doubted she'd do anything altruistic.

"So that book we found at Walter's had nothing to do with it?" Max queried.

Rowena's seemingly cheerful demeanor changed in a split second. "Ye shut yer mouth, pup. That book is way too powerful to stay in a non magic's hands. It would spell disaster. I, for one, have the skill necessary..."

"In your hands it would mean the end of the world," Max challenged. "We keep the book."

Rowena's eyes glowered at him. "Without the pages poor Walter found, it's only worth half. Ye hand me the book and I'll let this... vermin out of the hex ring."

"How about you hand us the pages and let Walter go and we might not kill you," Dean countered her demands.

"NO," Rowena's voice made the china in the cupboard behind her tremble. She held out her hand towards Dean, expecting him to go flying back against the wall but nothing happened. "You!" She focused her stare at Max briefly, slowly shaking her head. "Ye shouldn't have done that, pup! Cede!"

Max found himself pinned to the wall, more focused on keeping Dean and Sam safe than himself. Dean ducked and ran across, trying to somehow crack the circle that kept a visibly frightened Walter captive by breaking the glowing line with his foot.

He found it to be a bad idea and Max' "no" reached his ears the same time as Dean felt his foot bounce off the invisible wall like he hit a very powerful magnetic field. Stumbling to the floor Dean watched Sam move up to Rowena to get a clear shot. Max was still struggling against the wall, eyes glowing purple.

Getting to his feet, Dean aimed his witch killing bullets at the magic prison. Rowena's scream mixed with the boom of Dean's colt. A moment later the formerly invisible force field crackled in bluish electricity and then collapsed.

Enraged, Rowena stalked up to Dean. "Ye know, I liked ye a lot better when ye couldn't even remember yer name! Abice!" Her hand grabbed the air in front of Dean, flinging her arm sideways. Dean felt himself being tossed across the room. He heard Sam call his name and a shot ringing out and then his head connected with a brick wall and everything turned black.

"Dean!" Sam's voice cracked as he shouted his brother's name. In his haste he'd shot his bullet at Rowena, barely noticing he winged her shoulder, concern only with his brother who'd had no way to prepare himself for the impact on the solid brick wall. Sam wouldn't forget the sickening sound his brother's head made before landing awkwardly on his shoulder and laying still. He was sure Dean hadn't even felt the impact on the floor below.

Max finally got himself free of Rowena's magic confines and immediately started up his own spell attacks to keep her off the brothers. Rowena seemed to be unsteady for a moment, and Max realized Sam's witch bullet must have at least hurt her. It was his chance. Max knew he held powerful magic. But Rowena was an ancient witch. Her power was not to be underestimated.

Walter had cowered down even lower when the force field holding him started to crackle. Then all hell broke loose and things happened in a flurry. He watched the one man fly across the room, heard a shout and a shot and his cowardice instincts took over. He ran. He ran like never before in his life, out the door, out of the cabin, never once looking back.

Max noticed Walter's flight but his attention was on Rowena, who lifted her hand in direction of Sam this time. Sam was oblivious to it, eyes glued to the bloodied face of his prone brother. Directing a quick distraction spell at the red-headed witch, Max was glad to see it succeeded.

Rowena's eyes flickered viper green as she turned towards Max and he had just enough time to pull up a quick protection shield when her silent spell hit and deflected off it, bouncing around the room. Wood splintered and exploded, sending shards flying at high velocity through the room. Max felt himself being pelted by numerous projectiles and he lifted his arms to protect his head.

A burning sensation on his temple told him he'd been too late, but before he could worry about it, a searing pain shot through his thigh and he fell to his knees with a groan.

As the room calmed down, Max looked up to see Rowena standing in the middle of the room, breathing heavily. Obviously she hadn't expected such strenuous magical opposition. A tiny smile crept onto her weary features. Then she spoke, looking at Max, but words clearly meant for Sam.

"Bye for noo. Guid luck getting outta here before sleeping beauty forgets to wake up."

Max raised his magical defenses once more, but he didn't have to as Rowena, arm winged by the witch killing bullet hanging limply at her side, snapped her fingers and disappeared.

Breathing heavily, Max took stock. Sam was laying across Dean, obviously in an attempt to protect his unconscious brother from further harm. A cut below his eye let blood run down his face and the wound on the shoulder that got hurt in the police station had reopened and colored his shirt red.

Dean was still out, half of his face covered in blood. Sam had turned him onto his back and Max cringed at the way Dean's shoulder was obviously dislocated badly.

"Max?" Sam called, trying hard not to sound panicked, eyes not leaving Dean.

"Yeah," Max gasped.

"Max, it's bad," Sam looked at the witch. Max struggled to his feet and limped over, letting himself fall down with a grunt. "We need to get out of here. To get Dean out of here. Can you lift the spell?"

Sam's big, expressive puppy eyes were dark with worry, and Max nodded. He closed his eyes and moved his lips soundlessly in a spell he hoped would do the trick. When he was done, he sighed in relief. A subtle change in the atmosphere around them told him he'd been successful.

"Alright, Sam," Max gasped. "Let's get Dean out of here."

 *****spn*****

Sam floored the gas pedal of the Impala as he tried to balance speed and smoothness of their ride home. Max was sitting in the back with Dean, cradling his head and torso to prevent the dislocated limb from moving around too much. Max' leg hurt like a bitch but he ignored it. It was his fault Dean was in a bad way. He should have worked harder to keep him safe. Thinking back to Rowena's parting words, Max frowned.

"Sam? Why do I detect a deeper meaning in Rowena's last words?"

With a sigh Sam briefly explained how Dean's last encounter with a witch had gone and how they had needed Rowena's help to save Dean from eventually forgetting how to breathe.

Nodding in understanding, Max used the sleeve of his shirt to wipe some blood from Dean's face, then pressed his hand onto the sluggishly bleeding cut. When they arrived at the cabin he would do all he could to fix this.

Sam was breaking all speed records and somehow managed to keep the black car from bouncing too much. However with about five minutes to go, Dean started to moan. He tossed his head, squeezed his eyes shut tight, obviously in a world of pain, and his agonized sounds did nothing to calm Sam.

When the car finally stopped at their cabin, Max had all hands full of disorientated, thrashing in pain Dean and he was tempted to use some magic to knock his friend out again. However, he knew this wouldn't go down well with either brother so he did his best to help Sam carry Dean inside.

Messing up the bed sheets was the least of their worries as Sam carefully put his brother on one of the queens, drawing a pained shout from Dean nevertheless.

"Dean," Sam coaxed, trying to calm him. "Dean, relax. You're safe. I got you."

 **TBC...**


	6. Chapter 6

Max was staring down at Dean, heavily favoring his injured leg. He used his sleeve to wipe away some of the blood running down the side of his head and glanced at Sam, who was desperately trying to calm his big brother. Dean was clearly not coherent, but in pain, thrashing his head left and right, shying away when Sam just tried touching his arm. Max had to be careful to avoid Dean's legs kicking his own.

"It's okay, Dean," Sam tried to get through to his brother. "I know it hurts. You managed to dislocate that shoulder again." Dean didn't show any sign of hearing Sam and his pained groans only became more urgent. Max knew enough about Dean to be sure he wasn't usually one to show pain this openly.

"Maybe he pinched the nerve," Max suggested. "That hurts like a bitch. We should see that we reset it soon."

Sam scoffed. "How? The way he's kicking around I can't do that. I need him relaxed. As relaxed as can be, that is. And for that I need him coherent, which he isn't, or unconscious."

"Which he also isn't," Max added. "I could try to pin him down."

The moment Max tried to follow up his words he felt it was a bad idea. Leaning his body over Dean's legs to hold them down earned him a knee in the stomach. And Dean's right arm was still free and trashing around. Sam would need both his hands on the dislocated limb. Changing his strategy, Max went to straddle Dean but hadn't yet completed the move when his thigh protested heavily. His yelp didn't go unnoticed.

"You okay?" Sam asked, eyeing the dark patch on Max' jeans.

"I'll live. But I can't hold him down that way. He's got too much power."

"We have to do something," Sam mumbled. He hated seeing Dean in pain. And what made it worse was his brother being out of it enough to not even try to hold back any reaction to it. "I'd knock him out, but he already has a concussion... Max, could you...?"

"Are you sure? He's gonna hate me," Max hesitated, but the pain in Sam's eyes and Dean's moans cleared that up. "Alright, I'll do it."

Max closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Then he placed one hand palm down inches above Dean's shoulder, the other above his forehead.

"Mitiga," he said firmly, eyes lighting up purple. Then he moved the hand above the shoulder in a circular motion. "Mitiga dolorem."

For a moment Dean's green eyes shimmered as purple as Max', then the thrashing stopped and Dean's body relaxed as his eyes closed. It was Sam's turn to take a deep breath.

"Thank you."

Sam's words were filled with relief and he grabbed a towel to mop the sweat of Dean's face and his own.

"Can you help me get him out of the layers?"

Together the two hunters carefully peeled the clothes off Dean's lax body, finally revealing an obviously separated joint. The skin was already displaying multiple hematomas and Sam was carefully prodding around to determine which bone was where.

"Okay, Max," Sam called to his friend while threading the towel like a sling underneath Dean's torso. Then he handed the ends to Max. "Hold these, stand right there above his other shoulder, and hold tight on three."

Max took the towel ends and nodded. "Ready."

Sam took Dean's left hand into his and placed his right hand around Dean's upper arm, as close to the joint as possible.

"Okay, one, two, three!"

Max held tight as Sam pulled Dean's arm downwards. He saw the bone underneath the skin move and slide into place with an audible pop. Immediately, Sam moved the shoulder in the joint to test the mobility.

"Looks like we did it," he then declared, "Is there any ice here by any chance? That shoulder is going to swell up badly if we don't ice it."

"Piece of cake," Max smiled and grabbed a plastic bowl in the kitchen corner. He filled it with water. "Congela," he said, holding his hand above the bowl and the water froze. "Frange!"

With a crackling sound the solid block of ice broke into tiny pieces, effectively creating crushed ice.

"Wow," Sam gasped. "That's..."

"Awesome? Yeah, I know. Hand me that bag there, please," Max grinned and pointed at an unused trash bag. Soon they had filled the ice in the bag and Sam put it in place around the battered joint.

Sam used a wet cloth to clean all the blood off Dean's face and neatly stitched the wound at the side of his head while Max' spell was still holding. When he was done, he peeled open one eye of Dean's, revealing a green orb with a faint purple glimmer to it.

"What the heck?"

"Spell's wearing off soon," Max explained. "Like five minutes maximum. If he doesn't come around then, it's not my doing."

Sam looked at his brother, then at Max. "Okay, your turn."

"My turn?" Max eyes widened.

"Yeah, lose the jeans, witch boy," Sam said, face straight.

"I... oh, Sam, you wanna start something?" Max recovered, grinning cheekily. Sam rolled his eyes.

"Geez, you're worse than Dean, honestly. I was referring to checking your thigh wound and no, I'm not gonna buy you dinner first," Sam countered. "Tick-tock. I don't want to know what Dean thinks if he wakes up to me undressing you, so hurry up."

Max smirked and pulled on his belt to shimmy down his blood soaked jeans as best as he could without yelping in pain. He plonked onto the bed next to the one Dean was on and kicked off his boots, but couldn't suppress a pained groan when the muscles in his thigh protested.

Sam sat on the edge of Dean's bed, opposite Max and helped him get out of the remaining fabric before letting his eyes seek out the sluggishly bleeding flesh wound. He wiped away the blood with another towel and revealed a two inch gash.

"What did that? A knife?" He looked at Max.

"No knives that I saw flying around," Max replied. "I guess when I deflected her spell some of the debris must have hit me."

"Hm... but nothing's stuck in there, is there?" Sam wondered out loud and probed the wound, which was close enough to Max' crotch to have bloodied the edge of his grey boxers. Max inhaled sharply.

"That bad?" Sam asked without looking up. Max swallowed.

"Nope. More like that good," he replied, making Sam look up. "Sorry," Max grinned sheepishly, gazing down at his boxers that were starting to fill out.

Sam huffed, smiling briefly. "Guess it can't be that bad then. Nevertheless, it needs stitches, especially if you wanna involve in any activities." Their eyes met briefly. "Want some booze before I use the needle?"

"I don't need a courage drink," Max laughed and moved his hand above the wound. A soft purplish glow lit up momentarily. "Go for it, Redwood," Max said.

"Redwood?" Sam shook his head. "Now you're asking for it." He was busy threading a needle. "Okay, try not to poke me, Harry Potter."

Max snorted and then tried to blank out the feel of Sam's warm fingers near his crotch. "At least I'm in Gryffindor," he mumbled.

Sam worked a few moments in silence. When he tied off the last knot he tried to ignore the now obvious tent in Max' boxers.

"Right, now your head," Sam instructed, taking Max' head in his hand and turning it sideways.

"Does it look like his?" Max asked when Sam wiped the excess blood off.

"Huh?" Sam looked up, frowning.

"The wound, does it look like Harry's?"

"Oh," Sam chuckled. "No, not quite. Want me to fix it?"

Max' eyes grew wide. "No, I'm good." Sam laughed.

"I meant fix the wound, not fix the Harry Potter scar. I have no intention of using a knife on you."

"Yeah," Max replied. "But a needle."

"Well, I'm done with the needle. I think a few butterfly strips will do the job here," Sam explained. Quickly, Max' head was patched up. Sam turned towards his brother but Max caught his chin between his hands.

"Your turn, Redwood," he declared.

"I'll sort it out myself, later," Sam replied, but Max wouldn't take no for an answer.

"What's Dean gonna think when he wakes up and sees that he's all fixed, I'm sporting butterflies and you're still bleeding all over the place, huh?"

Sam blinked and nodded. "I'm sure he'd tear you a new one," he smiled.

"Yeah. And I'm pretty happy with what I got. So, suck it up and let me handle it. I'm not half bad."

Max smiled as Sam nodded once more and picked up a towel. It turned out Sam's cut on the cheek would do with butterflies as well and the reopened shoulder wound was quickly stitched up again.

As soon as everything was cleared, Sam was back at Dean's side. The crushed ice had turned to water and when Sam removed the bag, Dean's shoulder felt like an icicle.

"That should do it," Sam murmured. He wasn't happy that his brother wasn't yet stirring and it was easy for Max to see Sam's concern. He dropped a comforting hand on the taller man's shoulder.

"He'll be alright, Sam. He took quite an impact, but he's tough. Give him a few more minutes." Max then sat down opposite Sam, who had squeezed beside his brother's hips. Sam's gaze was studying Dean's face.

"What made you do it?" Sam asked Max, eyes never leaving Dean.

"What?" Max frowned. "What are you talking about?"

Sam turned to face Max, curiosity plain in his expression.

"What made you kiss Dean? I mean, obviously you had figured me out, and Dean. Why did you approach him that way when you knew I'd see you? You must have known I'd get jealous."

"Oh," Max replied. He thought a moment before he continued. "Yes, I knew about how you felt about Dean. Right from the first time we met you. I saw the look you gave when I told you my mom taught me to seduce men. You were telling me to keep my hands off Dean. It made me curious. And then I saw how Dean treated you. You know, he would never have admitted feeling curious about men. I knew the second he would do it, he'd turn to you. He adores you. But he'd never admit it."

"He raised me. He was always there for me. Of course he... adored me," Sam replied.

"Adores. Not past tense, Sam," Max corrected.

"Yeah. Maybe. And it's for the same reasons that I love him." Sam grinned and fondly looked at Dean.

"So, I decided to give you two a little nudge. It was clear if I had asked you to tell Dean you would have refused. And if I just told Dean, he would've thought me delusional - oh wait, he did anyway - and would have stressed that neither of you play for my team. So, I kinda had to show him. When I kissed him, he realized things about himself. And when he saw your reaction, he slowly started believing. But I guess he only got it fully when you stormed out on him."

"I felt like smacking you," Sam growled playfully.

"Oh, you're into pain games?" Max raised an eyebrow curious.

"Damn you, Harry Potter," Sam chuckled.

" 'f he's Harry d's tha' make ya H'rmione?"

"Dean!" Sam called in relief and exasperation.

"You realize, Dean, that would make you Ron," Max grinned. Dean's dazed eyes widened slightly uneven.

"Bloody hell," he uttered and then grinned.

"How are you feeling?" Sam inquired.

Dean briefly lifted his head before lowering it back down with a wince.

"Like Mike Tyson ripped out m' arm 'nd clubb'd me over th' head with't," he sighed. "Care to fill 'n the blanks, Hermione?"

Sam groaned while Max chuckled but quickly brought his brother up to speed. By then Dean had propped himself up on his good shoulder, taking in the bloodied rags and clothes strewn all over.

"Why's Max missing his pants an' you're showin' off your fancy schmancy six-pack?" Dean then asked.

"Wha... fancy?"

"Yeah, y' know I prefer a six-pack consisting of beer. If you add s'me glitter you can start dancin' in a strip club. Fancy schmancy." Dean grinned but his gaze kept jumping from Max' crotch to Sam's abs and back. He didn't miss the stitches in Max' leg. "Oh, you've been playin' doctor?"

"Dean," Sam pleaded as simultaneously Max piped up.

"Strip club? I can strip. And I can make glitter."

Sam rolled his eyes and groaned in exasperation. "I think you both hit your heads harder than I thought."

"Great, then we can play doctor?" Dean's eyes lit up.

Sam huffed. "Yeah, 'cause last time you slept through it all."

"Hey, gotta do somethin' to keep these handsome features," Dean protested.

"I swear you're high or something," Sam mumbled, earning a grin from his brother.

"Let's, um, pick up where we left off now that he's awake," Max suggested with a leer. He slid off the edge of his bed to kneel between Sam's spread legs and started kissing the taller man. After a brief moment of hesitation, Sam returned the favor and busied his hands to get rid of Max shirt.

"Hell, yeah," Dean swallowed hoarsely, eyes glued on the scene. Sam took his time pulling the t-shirt up over Max' chest, revealing nipples perked up in anticipation.

The moment Max had shed the fabric he made short work of Sam's belt buckle and soon both of them were only clad in their boxers. An impatient groan had both turn their heads toward Dean, who was desperately trying to operate his own belt and buttons one handed.

"Hold on," Max took pity on Dean and leaned over to help with the task. Sam in turn let his hands roam across Max strong muscled back and hummed appreciatively. The second Max had pulled all offending fabric down over Dean's hips, he turned to Sam, licking his lips. "Oh, Sammy, you're ready to poke a hole in your boxers. Why don't I help you out of them and see if you like my mouth just as much as Dean did?"

Groaning, Sam closed his eyes and unconsciously bucked his hips. With a predatory grin, Max followed up and gently pushed the tall man down onto his back, so Sam rested between Dean's spread legs, head propped on his brother's hip. Dean, whose right hand was lazily stroking his rigid cock, let the fingers of his left hand run through Sam's hair.

Max brushed his lips against Sam's cock, giving it a few licks. Sam thrust his hips forward shallowly, and whined when Max withdrew.

"Like that?"

Two matching moans came from the Winchesters and Max chuckled. He quickly moved to lap at Sam's balls, satisfied as a shudder ran through the other man's body, before sealing his lips around the hot, dark red cock head, suckling on it.

"Fuck it," Sam groaned loudly, bucking his hips to make Max take more of his big cock in that mouth of his. Max moved his hand to Sam's shaft, massaging it while nibbling and sucking on. When Sam felt Dean's moans vibrating in his brother's body beneath him, he opened one eye, finding that Max' other hand had taken on the task of stroking Dean's cock, which was oozing precum.

"Max," Sam rasped and their eyes met. "Wanna see you suck Dean."

With a pop Max disengaged from Sam's cock and with a grin he obliged. Putting on a show for Sam he stuck out his tongue and lapped up Dean's juices, circling around the tip of Dean's long, thick dick. Max shifted a bit when Dean's breathing pattern changed, so he could take that gorgeous cock balls deep.

Sam grabbed his throbbing member without taking his eyes off Max and matched his rhythm. After a few moments, he changed his mind. Working himself out from between his brother and Max, Sam hooked his fingers in Max' heavily tented briefs and pulled. Max had a glorious ass, tight, tan and tempting.

Positioning himself behind Max, Sam spat in his hands and rubbed it around Max' rim, causing the younger man to moan around Dean's cock. Max let go of Dean just long enough to tell Sam where to find some lube, then coated his hand in the mix of his own saliva and Dean's precum, jerking his rock hard length. Just a few strokes later he took Dean's cock against his own, rubbing and stroking them together, making Dean fist his hands in the sheets.

When Sam was back with the lube, Max let go of their cocks and replaced his lips on Dean's erection. Sam squeezed some lube on his fingers to work it into Max' loose hole. In no time Sam had three fingers scissoring him open and when his index finger rubbed across Max' prostate not entirely accidentally, Max grunted as his cock drooled a line of precum on the sheets below.

Sam locked eyes with his brother briefly, Dean's pupils wide and lust filled. His lubed hand stroked over his hard tool twice before he let the tip press against Max' entrance. A moment's hesitation was blown away when Max back himself up on Sam's cock and Sam set a lazy pace working himself flush into Max.

"Sammy," Dean moaned, eyes fixed on his brother fucking Max while Max was giving him and out of this world blow job. The vibration of Max' moans around Dean's cock were threatening to send him over the edge soon, and Dean's eyes began losing focus.

"Max," Sam groaned after pushing in as deep as he could. "Want you to ride Dean."

Sam pulled out, cock sticking up straight and Max obliged once more, getting on his haunches above Dean before lowering himself down on Dean's ready to burst dick until he was sitting on the older man. Max slowly rotated his hips, cranking up the volume in Dean's groans.

Reaching out, Max pulled Sam to stand next to him and took Sam's bobbing penis in his hand and mouth, hips never stopping. When Sam's dick was once more shiny with spit, he grinned.

"Come on, Redwood, stick it in, too," Max winked at Sam.

"You sure?" Sam asked, licking his lips.

"Damned sure."

Needing no further invitation, Sam moved back behind Max who bent down to lay on Dean's chest, kissing his way up from the tattoo to Dean's plump, spit wet lips. Slowly, Sam threaded his full cock in alongside Dean's, but once he was in past the head, sensory overload won and he pounded into the younger man. Sam didn't know what was more exciting, the snugness of Max' hole or the sensation of fucking his penis along his brother's.

The moans of all three men mixed as the speed of Sam's pelvis pumping picked up. Max couldn't believe the sweet pressure on his hot spot and when Dean bucked up into him, Max threw his head back and came all over Dean with a shout.

"Fuuuck," Dean rasped breathlessly and bucked up a few times as his orgasm hit. Only vaguely he heard Sam's shout and felt an extra load of cum mixing with his own inside Max' tunnel.

Finally Sam pulled out and collapsed next to his brother, tugging Max down until he was sandwiched between them. A few minutes later all three men had drifted off into an exhausted but sated sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

Dean woke up to his shoulder throbbing mercilessly in rhythm to the pounding in his head. He tried opening his eyes a crack but groaned loudly as the glistening sunlight burned his eyes and squeezed them shut tightly.

"Dean?"

"Kill me now, will you?" Dean croaked, flinging his good arm up to shelter his eyes. Sam's big hand settled on his forearm, patting it.

"Relax, Dean. Max will draw the curtains a bit, but I do need you to open your eyes to do a concussion check."

Max did as Sam said and drew the curtains. The reduced brightness caused Dean to open his eyes once more. Sam pounced on the opportunity and shone his penlight in his brother's eyes, earning himself an angry growl. Dean slapped his hands away and averted his eyes but Sam had seen enough.

"Looks like the concussion has cleared up a bit, but you should still feel it, so take it easy."

"Take it easy," mimicked Dean in a petulant voice. "Easy for you to say, bitch."

He sat up with a groan which amplified when he was finally upright. Clasping his right hand across his belly, Dean closed his eyes as the color drained from his face.

"Shit, Dean," Sam called and sat next to him, a steadying hand on Dean's shoulder. "You gonna be sick?"

Dean was too busy swallowing down saliva without choking on it. After a few moments he managed to calm his body's reaction and he inhaled deeply.

"The heck was that?" Dean mumbled. "Why's my mouth taste like lavender?"

"Lavender?" Sam frowned.

"Ummm," Max grumbled, somewhat uncomfortable. "Might be a side effect of the spell."

"The spell? Did Rowena put some mumble jumble on me after I was down?"

"You weren't down, you were out cold," Sam corrected and proceeded to fill Dean in on the past night's occurrences. When it came to setting his shoulder, Max took over.

"The dislocation pinched a nerve and you were in agony so much you almost kicked me in the balls. There was no way Sam could set your arm like that. So I used a spell to take away the pain." Max sighed as he saw Dean's eyebrows narrow dangerously.

"You hexed me?" Dean sounded betrayed.

"I asked him to," Sam declared.

"Et tu, Sammy?" Dean shook his head disapprovingly.

"Look, Dean, it was either that or taking you to a hospital. Max' spell helped you out so suck it up and be grateful," Sam groused.

"Easy for you to say, your mouth doesn't taste like old folk perfume," Dean bitched back and then looked at Max. "How long is it going to taste that way still?"

"Usually clears up within 24 hours so, probably a few more hours," Max explained.

"Great. Can I get some coffee? I need to taste something different."

Sam rolled his eyes and sighed. "Just one cup, Dean. You know..."

"Yes, mom, I know," Dean snapped and got up to take the mug Max offered him. After a few sips his mood seemed to clear up. "So, Walter ran like never before and Rowena poofed?"

"Well, yes. I think I might have clipped her with the witch killing bullet...," Sam started.

"You did," Max threw in.

"... so I expect she's holing up somewhere, licking her wounds."

"And plotting revenge, no doubt," Dean concluded.

"Yeah, well, we'll cross that bridge when we get there," Sam shrugged.

"So... case closed for now?" Max asked.

The brothers shared a look and a shrug.

"Kinda. You gotta be somewhere?"

"Maybe," Max smiled. "But I'm not gonna leave until Dean's clear of lavender in his mouth." Dean pulled a face which caused Sam to turn away to hide his laugh. "So, if you don't mind, I've been wondering about something."

"Oh?" Dean piped up, lifting his head, curiosity peaked.

"Yeah, I kinda noticed that anti possession sigil you have tattooed on your chest," Max began. "When I first saw it I thought it was a clever idea. Actually, I am thinking of getting one myself. But I was surprised to see you don't have one, Sam. I thought you'd both have it."

"We did," Sam replied.

"Matching ones," Dean grinned, drawing an eye roll from his brother and a chuckle from Max. "Cas removed it when Crowley had to possess Sammy to kick Gadreel out."

"Crowley is the current King of Hell, right?" Max asked. "Who's Gadreel. And Cas?"

"Angels. Long story," Sam said, short and clipped. It was obvious it wasn't a favorite bed time story of theirs.

"Right," Max nodded. "How come you didn't replace it afterwards?"

Sam shrugged. "Kinda never came up and to be honest, I never really thought of it."

"Didn't I see a tattoo parlor in town the other day?" Dean thought out loud. "I still have a vial of the special ink in Baby's trunk."

"Really Dean? You wanna do that now?" Sam asked. Dean shrugged.

"Now's as good a time as ever. Especially with all those Princes of Hell loose..."

"I'm in," Max declared. "But, no offence, I think I got a better place for mine."

"Yeah?" Dean raised an eyebrow. "Where would that be? On your..."

"Dean!" Sam interrupted, growing exasperated. Max laughed.

"On my deltoid," he then explained, pointing out the spot. "Shall we go then?"

 *****spn*****

Hours later Dean parked the Impala at the cabin again. Max went inside to get his duffel and put it into his own car. Then he walked up to the brothers who were sitting side by side on Baby's hood.

"Ready to hit the road. Got a friend on the West coast that I gotta see."

"A friend?"

"Actually, it was more Alicia's friend. Her first and kinda on/off only boyfriend. He... doesn't know yet. I thought, I thought I should tell him in person."

Max looked down, studying his feet and working his lower lip with his teeth. When he looked up once more, his eyes were glistening with unshed tears. Dean slid off the hood and hugged his friend. After a few moments they parted. Max smiled tightly.

"You okay?" Dean asked. Max nodded.

"Yeah, you?"

"I'm great," Dean replied.

"No more lavender taste?"

"Oh. No, I think it's gone."

Max grinned slightly mischievously. "Guess I should make sure." He closed the short distance again and kissed Dean. Then he ran his tongue across his own lips. "Yep, you're good to go. What's your plans?"

"We'll hit the road in the morning. Maybe find us a case before we leave," Dean explained while Max turned to Sam to pull him into a hug.

"Right. Stay safe and stay in touch."

Max let go of Sam and strolled over to his car. Soon, the taillights of the night blue 78 Mustang Cobra lit up as the engine revved one last time before driving off. In silence the brothers watched the car disappear. Dean then nudged his brother gently.

"Come on, Sasquatch, let's..."

Whatever else Dean wanted to say was muffled by his brother's lips covering his. Sam had grabbed Dean's arm gently and pulled him into his personal space, lips exploring Dean's unresistant mouth. When he pulled off he grinned at Dean's slightly open lips.

"He's right. No lavender residue left."

Dean glared at him, which made Sam laugh loudly. He gripped Dean's wrist and pulled him along, heading towards the cabin. To Sam's amazement, his brother let himself being manhandled. Once inside, the change in Dean took Sam by surprise.

Dean pulled out of Sam's grip, wrapping his right fist in his collar. He pushed Sam along a few steps, until he was backed up against the wall. Curious, Sam inclined his head slightly.

The brothers locked eyes, no words necessary between them. The hint of a smile ghosted over Sam's features nanoseconds before Dean crashed their lips together, never relinquishing his grip on Sam's clothes.

During the relentless battle of tongues, Sam brought his hand to the back of Dean's head, as if he wanted to make sure his brother wouldn't pull away. When they finally broke the kiss, both were breathing hard. Dean kept his right hand on the wall above Sam's shoulder, clothes still pinned, while his left rubbed over Sam's crotch.

"Since when, Sammy?"

"Since when what? Have I wanted to do this?" Sam asked softly.

"No. And yes," Dean rasped. "But no, since when can anyone else but me call you Sammy and not get punched for it?"

Sam's lips shaped an 'o' as understanding dawned on him.

"Does it bother you?"

"Yes. I don't know. Maybe?" Dean didn't back off. "Maybe I ought to show you who's got Sammy rights."

He fumbled with the belt of both their jeans, starting off the mutual frenzy of getting rid of their clothes. Dean winced as he pulled the t-shirt off, his shoulder protesting the movement. When he looked up, there was concern in Sam's eyes.

"I'm good," Dean declared, letting his eyes travel over the gauzed up fresh tattoo down along the happy trail until they rested on Sam's thick erection. Biting his bottom lip, Dean's eyes sought Sam's. Without breaking the gaze, Dean dropped down to his knees until his hot breath on Sam made his brother shiver.

Focusing on the weeping cock in front of him, Dean stuck out his tongue to lap around the sensitive head. Slowly he took in more and more of his brother's cock, swirling his tongue wherever he could reach.

"Dean," Sam moaned, bucking his hips slightly in an attempt to make Dean take in even more.

The sound Sam made went straight to Dean's rock hard length and he wrapped his hand around it to squeeze and take a bit of the edge off. As a result, he groaned around Sam's dick. The vibration almost sent Sam into overdrive. He tipped his head back and groaned even louder.

"Fuck, Dean!"

Dean increased the suction, hollowing his cheeks and then pulled off with an audible plop.

"That's the plan, Sammy," he croaked. "You got any lube?"

"Left front pocket," Sam panted, gesturing to the heap on the floor that was his jeans.

"Always prepared, eh?" Dean grinned as his fingers located the little tube.

"Hmmm," Sam moaned in response, watching Dean coat his length with long strokes. Next, Dean nudged Sam's legs apart as much as he could, pressing Sam further into the wall as Sam engulfed him in a hug. Sam wrapped his legs around Dean's waist, who took his weight in stride. Dean's lubed up fingers found Sam's hole, working the remaining gel around and inside.

"Dean," Sam panted into his ear. "Want you to take me."

"Careful what you ask for, baby bro," Dean growled.

"Just fucking do it, Dean," Sam bit out through gritted teeth.

Dean wasn't one you needed to tell twice. He tucked his face into Sam's neck and inhaled his brother's tantalizing scent.

"You're always so damned impatient, Sammy," Dean breathed and with a twist of his body and arms he lifted Sam briefly to line up his cock and then lowered Sam onto it. Both men groaned as they relished the new sensation. Then Dean braced the wall behind Sam and thrust balls deep once. Sam's nails curled into the hard, wooden cabin wall.

"Go on, go on," he said after a moment, lust making his voice thick. He clenched around Dean's cock and rocked his body backwards, then Dean was moving. Muscle memory had his hands slotting over Sam's hips and gripping tight as he drove into him. Dean didn't ease into a fast pace, and quickly paid the price as his injured should protested strongly.

"Son of a bitch," Dean howled as his arm spasmed painfully. He pulled Sam's body close and walked the few steps to the nearest bed, lowering them down as gently as possible.

"You okay?"

"Am now," Dean panted, resuming leisurely trusts. He was on his knees, watching his lubed up cock sliding in and out of Sam's stretched hole. Sam was moaning and gripping his own red hot dick tightly, hand trying to match Dean's rhythm.

Dean picked up pace, teeth worrying his bottom lip as he concentrated on the pleasure displayed in Sam's face. He angled his thrusts slightly different and Sam moaned loudly, hand squeezing reflexively on his cock, a gush of precum dribbling down the length.

The sight alone made Dean's balls tingle like never before. He grabbed Sam's ankles and grunted which each frantic thrust, picking up speed until he lost his rhythm.

"Ah, ah, ahhh...," he groaned, "not gonna last, Sammy."

Knowing his big brother was about to blow, Sam pushed back against him, making Dean's cock hit the most sensitive part of his sweet spot.

"Oh fuck, Dean... so good, fill me soooo fucking... ah, I'm gonna blow..."

Dean pulled out and rammed his cock back in balls deep, keeping the pressure on Sam's prostate as he shouted his orgasm, only vaguely aware of Sam's walls gripping his cock unbelievably tight as Sam shot ropes of hot, white cum all over his torso. Dean collapsed on top of Sam, not caring about anything but feeling his brother's body underneath his own.

 *****spn*****

Sam opened his eyes and saw Dean's naked body still sprawled across his own. Gently, he rolled Dean off and went to clean up first himself, then his brother. Sam grinned. Dean looked so young and innocent in slumber. He tossed the soiled towel away and pressed a light kiss on Dean's luscious, slightly parted lips.

Dean stirred ever so slightly, his tongue snaking out to wet his lips, maybe in search of the other set of lips he'd felt there moments before. Sam felt himself getting hard again, just watching his brother. An insatiable desire to claim him overcame Sam and he laid down on the bed next to Dean, lips closing around the hardened peak of one perky nipple, while his hand sought out Dean's semi hard member.

Dean stirred again, a low moan rising from his chest, music to Sam's ears. He could practically feel Dean's cock fill out to full hardness as his tongue was licking over the sensitive bud on Dean's chest, making his brother's breaths speed up.

Looking up, Sam found Dean's eyes open, watching his every move, lips wet from saliva like he'd just licked them again. Sam grinned and then closed his lips around the nipple, suckling on it while increasing the pressure on Dean's trembling dick.

"Ohmyffff...," Dean groaned, throwing his head back as he squeezed his eyes shut.

Sam spread Dean's legs and knelt between them, hands roaming over Dean's body, leaving it shivering with anticipation. Sam's hands charted out a map of Dean's body, of every inch he'd never had an excuse to touch, and Dean let him. Sam knew it was the ultimate display of trust.

Taking Dean's length into his hand, Sam started jacking the cock until precum was coating the whole head. He bent down, licking up Dean's salty juice, worshipping the perfectly shaped penis with his lips, tongue and teeth until Dean was a babbling, moaning mess.

"Sammy, damn... so fucking good... so fucking hard... you make me... wanna... hmmm, aaahhhh, wanna feel you, Sammy..."

Sam grinned, incredibly turned on by the sight of Dean out of control, begging for his attention.

"Wanna feel me where, big bro," Sam coaxed, taking his massive erection into his hand. He touched their tips together, mixing their precum. The heat of his brother against his own made his cock jerk and Sam groaned softly.

"Inside, Sammy, wanna know how you feel, please?"

Sam watched his brother writhing underneath him, ecstasy clouding both their eyes. He fumbled for the lube, working it around Dean's rim and then slowly inside. Dean gasped. Sam slid one finger after another easily into the older man's body. Dean opened up to his touch, his lithe body relaxing with the insistent pressure of Sam's fingers.

"Are you ready, pretty boy?" Dean's sweaty hair was sticking in all directions and he nodded, his breath shallow and cheeks flushed. Hearing Sam call him pretty tickled a special place in his gut.

"Fuck me, Sammy," he panted.

Sam shuddered and withdrew his fingers, rubbing the excess lube on his throbbing length, letting out a breathy moan at the brief contact. He lined himself up and pushed the head of his cock into Dean, who winced and closed his eyes.

"You alright?"

"Yeah." Dean was breathing quickly. They stayed still for a moment, their foreheads resting together, and then Dean said, "More, please."

Sam obeyed eagerly, pressing into the welcoming heat of Dean's virgin ass. Dean's hands clung to Sam's back, his nails leaving red scratches on his tanned skin. When Sam felt his hips bump up against Dean's balls and ass, he stopped, peppering feather-light kisses on Dean's cheeks and eyelids. Dean was shivering, muscles tensed, but after a moment he opened his eyes and nodded. "You can move."

Sam began slowly, letting out shattered sounds as he realized that this was Dean, and this was real, and Dean wanted him to fuck him. Dean's moans scattered Sam's last restraints and with each thrust he finally let himself go to pleasure. Dean was crying out, the noises far from coherent.

Sam's groans mingled with Dean's cries and any control Sam had left abandoned him. As he approached his climax, he wrapped a hand around Dean's weeping cock, and stroked in rhythm to his own cock hitting Dean's prostate over and over.

With an unintelligible shout, Dean came hard over Sam's hand, his body milked Sam's own orgasm from him, and Sam muffled his moans in Dean's mouth, kissing him roughly until his body started trembling from over stimulation.

"Fucking hell," Dean said weakly, when he regained control of speech, and Sam nodded his agreement as he pulled out, collapsing beside Dean, head on his chest, with a heavy sigh.

"You're so fucking gorgeous," Sam murmured, running his hand briefly through Dean's messy hair. "You have no idea how fucking gorgeous you are and what you're doing to me."

"I guess I do now," Dean chuckled and pulled Sam close. "So, again. Since when?"

"Since I was eighth grade."

 **.**

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 **ThE eNd!**

 **AN: Thanks for reading, everyone. Would love to hear your opinions and whether or not a sequel or timestamp is a good idea! :)**


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